Wisdom or Pride
by Tabitha of MoonAurora
Summary: The story of Enya Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition. A chronicle of the events that transpired between the Breach of the Fade and the Defeat of Corypheus and perhaps even a little beyond. If there were a third option for genre is would be romance. Warning: this story as it is the plot of the game itself, contains major spoilers for said game.
1. Fading and Falling

A/n- Hello everyone. It has been a very long time since I've posted on here, partially because I'm a college student and that takes up the majority of my time and partially because I look back at some of the stories that I wrote when I was 14 and, though I still appreciate the effort I put into them, I really question what I thought I was doing. It makes it very difficult to update those stories when I know that I all honesty I should just go through and re-write them. Regardless, I was so struck by the experience that I had playing Dragon Age: Inquisition that I really felt I had to go ahead and write it all down. This is not so much a fanfiction as it is my Inquisitor's thoughts on her burden as Andraste's Herald and as leader of the Inquisition as well as her relationships with those around her. In essence, I have sought to novelize the plot here. Please, if you've managed to make it through all of that, read on. I'd love to have your feedback.

Prologue

The ground was strangely warm to the touch in comparison to the coldness of the air that brushed past her face. In the few seconds of consciousness, she managed after falling from the Fade she glimpsed the tips of shoes, felt the raps of swords on her back. Despite her best efforts, she felt the odd green light she'd considered very little, slipping away. Dissolving into the intense burning, she felt creeping up her arm. She was lifted from the stone beneath her face as her mind fell into the darkness.


	2. Guilt from Necessity

a/n- So, you may notice that my dialogue is a bit different than that of the game. This is because, in moments where it was possible, I tried to bend the dialogue so that it said the same thing but was original. I don't believe that, even in an endeavor like this, I should take someone else's work and use it as my own, regardless of my intention. Additionally, each chapter was going to be based around some of the main missions with some exposition and character interaction chapters interspersed. However, as "The Wrath of Heaven" chapter turned out to be 9500+ words, in the interest of chapter length consistency, most missions will likely be split. Enjoy, and leave a review.

Guilt from Necessity

The room was dark, and fear scented the air that stung her lungs as she sucked it through her throat. Her emerald eyes swam against the flicker of green light her ears ringing with the crackle of lightning around her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the searing pain she'd felt before threatened to drag her back into the abyss of blackness and dreams where she'd spent the last few hours. She flexed the hand, hoping that somehow it would relieve the fire that lanced through her veins. Her eyelashes fluttered against the skin of her cheek as she struggled to focus. The brightest of green light shot from her hand, where a wound lay across her skin like the smallest of cracks in a wall, yet seemingly as deep as any canyon. She gasped in surprise, shock, perhaps even fear, folding it closed again. The iron manacles brushed roughly against her skin then, and she took a slight notice, her eyes dancing around the room in a panic, taking stock of where she was. There were soldiers with swords…pointed at her throat, though they stood a distance away

The door slammed open, and the elf withdrew from the figures that strode through as far as she could, trying to see their faces more clearly through her blurred vision. The first, dark hair, short in length though she was quite tall. Was she a Templar? The elf blinked again and turned to the second. Purple hair? No, she wore a hood over hers, and a long mail tunic protected the rest of her. While her focus had drifted to the second woman, the first had come to stand behind her.

"Who are you?" She had a low voice, filled with alto, and her words were tinged with Orlesian trills.

The elf recoiled slightly from the woman's sudden presence at her ear. She could not speak, her voice rough, course, like pine needles dragged across paper. She coughed and tried again.

"My-my name is Enya," her words were weaker than she wanted them to be, betraying the wash of confusion and anxiety that filled her mind.

The woman templar paced around her in a lazy circle. Enya could read the tension, the anger and the control in each of her steps.

"Tell me, Enya, why we shouldn't kill you now." Her words were deliberate and measured. Just like her step.

Enya's eyes widened as the words made impact; her breathing quickened.

"The Conclave is destroyed. The mages, the Templars come there to negotiate peace? Dead," her voice wavered, she was looking at the floor, a finger shaking in Enya's direction. Her eyes snapped onto her captive, cold as ice, accusatory, "Everyone…except you."

It was a question wrapped in a truth and Enya realized with a jolt why she was here. They though that she had…

"What do you mean everyone's dead?" her voice was stronger, but still, it shook.

The received no answered. Instead, the templar woman stepped forward and took her left wrist in a cruelly tight grasp considering the destroyed skin from her shackles.

"Explain this!"

Enya's hand seared with more blindingly hot pain as green light erupted from her wound. The woman let go, and the iron carried the hand back down to her lap.

"Ah-I…" her voice snagged again on its way out, though she could not be certain that this time was not through fear rather than disuse. The elf gathered herself, "Can't."

"You _can't!_" The templar leaned toward her slightly, leaning closer to her face.

"It wasn't there before! I don't know what it is!" She tried to appeal, her face open, eyes wide with fear.

The woman shoved her, "I don't believe you!"

Enya took the push as gracefully as she could, surprised as the woman in the purple hood stepped in to defend her pushing the Templar back from her.

"Calm yourself, Cassandra. We _need _her," the woman dropped her hand from the other's shoulder. She also spoke with the cadence of Orlais though her voice was decidedly more feminine, a gentle, flowing soprano that seemed incongruous with her position and dress.

Enya's eyes darted around the room quickly, noticing only now that the soldiers had lowered their blades. Then her focus returned to her interrogators. Their silent moment seemed wrought with words to the elf. They'd known each other for a time.

Enya stared past them, her mind reeling with the information they had just imparted to her. The conclave, the people the mages, everyone…

"I can't believe it." She paused and drew a rough breath, "All those people. _Dead."_

"Does you memory serve you? Can you tell us how this began?" The hooded woman spoke now, her voice more emotionless than the Templar called Cassandra.

Cassandra paced past her and Enya watched her present interrogator's eyes shift cautiously for a moment. Enya glanced to her hands as the pain flared again, struggling to focus.

"I was running from..." She licked her lips, "Something was chasing me and…and."

An image flashed before her eyes of a figure, perhaps in Chantry robes, but glowing, an arm outstretched toward her.

"There was a woman," she asked and then looked up at the purple hood. The elf noticed then that the woman's hair was red.

"A woman?" her interrogator crossed her arms as stared at her intently.

Enya went on, haltingly, "She reached for me, but I…" No other memories aided her in her telling of this story. In a mix of aggravation and grief, she looked away, her unknowning bitter on her tongue.

Cassandra stepped past her and steered her colleague toward the door, "Go; you're needed at the forward camp, Leliana. You've delayed long enough." She paused and shared a stern look with the other woman, "I will take her to the rift."

Enya looked up at this. Cassandra was staring at her, eyes still filled with ice, though she thought they might have thawed a little. Leliana cast a last glance over her shoulder at Cassandra before departing. As Cassandra approached her, Enya remained still. Whether it was the slight softening of the woman's posture or simply the elf's acceptance of her likely fate, she allowed the approach, already defeated by her mind. As her shackles were unlocked, and a rope passed through her hands she asked.

"What _did _happen?"

Cassandra aided her in standing without her hands for balance. The uncoiling of her knees was both agony and ecstasy as she rose from her forced kneel. Even at full height, she barely reached her captor's shoulder.

"It would be easier to show you," Cassandra intoned and led her from the dungeons out into the world.

More than the pain of her bruises and the fire in her hand did the blinding white light of the sun on snow hurt her eyes as she stepped from her prison into the world. Then she saw it, the sky ripped open, curving upward into a vortex of howling green and grey. A lazy coil of green swirled up toward it. She stared, blank-faced up at it. Her stomach turned, and her hand burned slightly more in its presence. Fear and fascination dueled within her chest along with an unnerving understanding that _this _was all that was left of the conclave.

"We call it the Breach," Cassandra's voice cut through her thoughts.

Enya tore her attention away, looking at Cassandra instead.

"With each hour it grows widening the rip in the Veil that protects us from the dangers of the Fade."

The Templar, although, now that she was in the light Enya thought that that description was perhaps unfitting, turned toward her.

"It's not the one, but it alone rends the sky open. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

Enya fixed her with a tense stare, "An explosion can do that?"

"This one did," Cassandra approached her.

As though in response to her words, the Breach flared with green light, filling the valley with the rumble of a thousand avalanches. White hot fire burned through Enya's hand as green light exploded from the wound. A scream ripped her throat as she fell to the ground and curled around her hand, as though protecting it could stave away the pain. Cassandra knelt before her and pointed at the Breach emphatically.

"Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads," She paused, and Enya looked up, "And it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time. If we wait much longer, the rift may swallow our world."

Enya looked from Cassandra to her hand and back up, "And you still think I did this?"

"It is possible." Her captor looked up at the sky, "Perhaps you made a mistake. But it matters not. That mark is the most immediate hope for stopping this."

Enya looked away at the breach too, wondering if these would be her final moments, a delay put on her death by misfortune's accident. Would she die in the very place she had survived? She had already accepted her death was unavoidable. Best it come with the chance of saving the world than by the honed blade of an executioner's axe. She turned back to Cassandra.

"I understand."

Cassandra looked at her and hesitated, "Then…"

"I will do whatever it takes."

Her captor paused for a moment, absorbing her words, and then stood quickly, drawing Enya up to her feet by the back of her shirt. She escorted her along with a sideways glance of indecision. The elf's wrists stung as the rope found barely healing wounds on which to scrape.

Cassandra led her past lines of people and tents whose eyes were filled with rage and hatred. Enya had felt dislike before but never had she experienced a place so devoid of empathy. In this crowd, Cassandra's miniscule glimmer of compassion shown like a shining beacon and Enya felt herself drawn closer to her captor out of shear necessity.

"They have decided you're guilty. They need it." Cassandra explained as she pushed her through the streets, "They mourn the loss of our Most Holy Divine Justinia of the Chantry." Her voice again quavered.

Enya wondered how important the Divine was to the people who worshipped with the Chant. She breathed a little more easily as they approached the outskirts of the city.

"This meeting was a chance for our world to find peace. An opportunity for mages and Templars to settle their differences. The destruction of the Conclave throws this war back into chaos."

She paused as they approached a gate. The guards opened it wide for them to pass.

"We lash out like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves,"

They walked onto the bridge over the valley and Enya suddenly realized that would be powerless to resist should one of these people lose faith in the woman she assumed was their commander and decide to attack her. She would be lost over the edge of this stone arch, and that would be the end of it. The young elf pushed these thoughts away.

"As she did."

Cassandra crossed in front of her and extended her hand as a command to stop. Enya did as she was bid, letting the last few words uttered by her captor hang in the air, unattached and attached to everything with meaning. The human woman drew a knife and approached her with it. Enya fought the urge to recoil again as the fingers of one hand grasped her wrist while the other cut the bindings away.

"There will be a trial; I can promise no more." Cassandra let her hand drop free and stepped back, "Come. It is not far."

Enya rubbed her wrists and looked up, "Where are you taking me?"

The human warrior did not respond but walked on across the bridge. Enya glanced around at the other soldiers on the bridge, unmoving for a moment and then followed her. Their mistrusting gazes crawled over her skin like ants.

"We cannot know for certain the effect your mark will have on the Breach unless we first test it on something smaller." She responded as Enya drew close. "Open the gate. We are heading into the valley."

They proceeded beyond the gates, and Cassandra broke into a brisk jog. Enya, weak as she was, steeled herself to keep up. Soldiers ran past them, back toward the town. Haven. And ironic name, she thought morbidly. They made it partway up a hill when the sky cracked again. The elf cried out, her legs giving way beneath her as her feet slipped through the snow. She grasped her wrist, curling desperately around it again. Anything to stop the pain.

Cassandra reached her and dragged her back to her feet again. The woman's face twitched with the tiniest amount of concern, "The pulses are coming faster now." She took off again, leading the way to Mythal only knows where, "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear. Demons come through. We are finding one such rift."

Enya glanced up at the sky as she struggle to keep pace with the woman's longer legs and healthier state. She winced a few times as she stumbled on rocks and ice that littered the path. She tried hard to ignore any corpses she saw, for their grotesque visages were not something she thought she could bear haunting her dreams. She looked instead up at the Breach, the source of her pain, of her suspicion, and was awed. Suddenly she understood why they thought only the perpetrator of such an event could have survived it.

"How _did_ I survive?" she asked aloud, though she was not certain whether she had wanted and answer or was simply musing.

Nevertheless, Cassandra explained, "The soldiers said you stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste. As you did, they mentioned seeing a woman before the rift from which you fell closed."

They stepped onto the bridge and crossed half of its span, Enya working hard to wrap her mind around Cassandra's bleak explanation. Then, with a flash of green energy, or magic, the stone beneath their feet collapsed, and they were falling. Enya went limp as she hit the rocks rolling and bouncing down them onto the icey river in the middle of the valley. Coughing to get back her breath, she looked around for Cassandra. Her captor struggled to rise from the ice as well.

Another ball of rift energy fell from the sky, impacting on the ice in a shower of scintillating shards and from it rose a demon of a sort. Enya froze in her place, looking between it and Cassandra. The warrior had already drawn her sword and held it and the shield with an ease that seemed almost innate. Sword pointed at her target and shield at the ready, Cassandra whisked her gaze over her prisoner.

"Stay behind me!"

With that, she rushed forward. Enya watched her leave before noticing that the group before appeared to boil with blackish green goo. She took a couple steps back and then glanced around for anything to help her. A glint caught her eye as she frantically searched, and she reached the greatsword lying on the crate just as another demon rose from the boiling muck on the ice. It lunged at her, and she stepped sideways, twisting with all of her might to bring the sword around and strike her adversary. She landed a few blows before it turned and made for the other demon.

Enya rushed after it. She was not friends with Cassandra, but she would not stand by and let her be killed. The enemy of your enemy _might_ be your friend, her mother had once said. She struck the demon a few more times, but it was Cassandra who decisively finished it. Hot black demon blood dribbled onto the ice.

"It's over," Enya raised her eyes to find the unnervingly steady tip of Cassandra's sword in her face.

"Drop your weapon," Cassandra ordered, "Now!"

Enya's eyebrows tightened, "If we run into more demons, I can't let you fight on your own."

Her captor shifted her grip on her sword and then she relented, rising taller so that she might sheath her sword.

"You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to do the same," She turned away.

Enya retrieved the greatsword's harness from the pile of rubble that had once been a bridge and then hastened to join her. Her captor spun on her heel toward her and Enya stopped, drawing herself to her full height. Her right hand twitched to grab the sword, but she didn't move a muscle.

"I should remember that you agree to come willingly," Cassandra pursed her lips and then reached for a pouch attached to her hip. She took out some small vials and handed them to the elf, "Take these potions. Maker knows what else we will face."

They set off again. The added weight of the sword added to the pain in her side from the fall off the bridge, and it lanced through her with each step she took. Cassandra's pace seemed faster, or perhaps Enya was growing weaker. She paused a moment and pulled out one of the bottles. She downed it like a shot of Antivian brandy trying hard not to gag on the intensely bitter taste. She shook her head once and then took off again, relishing the feeling of warm she got from the potion. It was not healing her, but the lessening of pain was enough to keep her going.


	3. Of Demons and Rifts

a/n- First, I want to thank everyone who has read this thus far. You are making a writer quite happy that she can draw you into a story that you likely already know. I honestly only expect one or two people to actually make it past the first chapter so the fact that I have 71 visits on it has certainly brightened my day. Second, I want to take a moment to ask you to stick with me. I know this beginning is not the most interesting, and it was certainly more fun to play through than it probably is to read, but hang in there. I promise that the story will get more exciting and compelling as it goes on. And on that note, please enjoy this next chapter.

Of Demons and Rifts

The icy landscape seemed desolate and inescapable. She wondered whether the lack of life was because of the Breach, as Cassandra had alluded to or because of the many soldiers that had recently moved through the area. Either way, Enya was very aware that only the sparse plants were their companions. They were very alone.

"Where are the soldiers?" she asked.

"At the forward camp, all fighting. We are on our own now."

The words echoed slightly off of the rocks, a sense of foreboding coming with that reverberation. Enya's premonition was realized as they came over another rise to encounter two more demons of the same type as the one before, tall without legs, tugging themselves along the ground with forward diving motions. She loosed her sword form its harness and gripped it firmly between her small, Dalish hands.

"There!" Cassandra cried, needlessly pointing them out, "If we flank them we have the advantage."

She jumped from the ridge onto the ice, drawing her sword mid-leap and leading with her shield. Enya hesitated a moment and then took a deep breath, following suit.

The fight was quick and clean. Enya's training with a blade was beginning to come back to her, and she found herself growing bolder, attacking harder. The demons had the decency to vanish when they were dead, falling into the Beyond as blackish green shards. Only the dark blood remained.

They set off again, even faster this time only to be waylaid, but a floating green creature from the Fade that Enya recalled was a wraith and another of the hooded demons, but they quickly dispatched them. The further they moved up the valley the more they encountered, and the larger the groups became. Enya felt herself growing weary as they ascended a tall set of steps up the side of the valley.

"We're getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting!" Cassandra called out to her.

"Whose's fighting?" Enya tried hard to catch her breath, but pain ripped through her chest. She took out another potion and downed it, still running. She would be lucky if she didn't become as attached to this potion as the Templars were said to be to lyrium.

"You'll see soon," even Cassandra's words seemed strained for the air to support them, "We must help them."

Flames covered nearly half of their path here and what they could see that wasn't smoke was a greenish glow emanating from what appeared to be a small version of the Breach fade energy leaking from it into Thedas. Enya drew her sword as she watched the fighting. Her hand burned again, intensely, and she gasped but did not fall. She followed Cassandra into the battle, diving in to help those who had been staving off the horde.

Enya had not time to catch a glimpse of the other soldiers, only knew that they seemed adept before she was swallowed by fighting a demon on her own. When he finally fell, she felt her hands shaking on the blade. She had not killed before, not like this. Even fighting their way up the valley Cassandra had done the killing, she'd merely weakened their adversary.

As the demon dissolved back into the rift she saw a dwarf with an intricate crossbow and a grim expression look up from his kills. He picked up a few bolts from the ground and stuck them in some leather loops on his belt. His gaze flitted over her to Cassandra, and eyebrow rising. Enya opened her mouth to speak, but a voice cut through the sudden silence before she could utter a sound.

"Quickly! Before more come through!"

A hand wrapped tightly around her wrist and forced her open, marked hand toward the rift. She bit back a scream as light, energy, magic shot from her hand into the rift before her. The seconds passed, and it felt as though blood seeped from her body into the air through her palm and then, quite suddenly, the rift exploded with the sound of a dropped mirror.

Enya jerked her hand away from whoever was holding it and drew it in on herself. Gasping more in shock than in pain for a warm had spread through the shimmering wound on her hand as the rift closed. She now looked up at the man who had grabbed her. She gave a short intake of breath as she realized he was an elf. Her eyes darted from him to her hand and back to the space in the air where the rift had been. Then the elf found her words.

"What did you do?!" she implored.

The elf shifted in his blood spatter robes as he gestured toward her, "_I_ did nothing. The credit is yours."

Enya looked down at her hand again, flexing it as the pleasant warmth that had soothed the pain vanished, "At least this is good for something." She tried to ignore the sticky feeling of the blood drying on her fist.

The elf seemed unmoved by her reluctant comment and launched into an explanation.

"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," he wrapped his hands casually behind his back, "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that opened in the Breach's wake," his tone lifted slightly from calm to pleased as she listened, "And it seems I was correct."

Cassandra strode forward, "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

Enya heard the statement, the question, and the uptick of hope betrayed in her words as she approached the mage. His eyes darkened, and his tone became cautious as he responded.

"Possibly." The elf turned his attention from Cassandra back to her, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

Enya blinked, lowering her eyes to the ground in acknowledgment of his statement. She felt the pain pulse again through her and stared at it, flexing her hand open and closed. Their salvation? She remained silent as a new voice, deep and rich, yet gruff and easy, sliced her thoughts. The elven captive turned to look at the dwarf.

"Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." He seemed to straighten his sleeve and then wandered over to them. Looking directly at her, he introduced himself, "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong."

He looked briefly at Cassandra, eyes gleaming. Enya's eyes followed his gaze to her captor, whose face twitched with barely contained irritation. She turned back to him, "Are you with the Chantry or…"

The elven mage next to her let out a laugh, "Is that a serious question?"

Enya looked from him to Varric to Cassandra. It had seemed unlikely and now clearly her initial presumption had been correct. She cut in before they could say anything further.

"I thought it unlikely," She paused, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Varric."

"You may rethink that stance, given time." The mage commented though it seemed to Enya that he did so in good spirits

"Aww. Give it time, Chuckles, I'm sure we're going to be great friends," Varric replied, equally confident.

Cassandra cut in before she could respond, "Absolutely not. You've helped in the past Varric but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?" the dwarf interrupted and this time his tone was serious, "Your soldiers aren't in control anymore," he paused and then cocked his head to the side. "You need me."

Cassandra responded with a disgusted sigh and turned away. Enya could feel her resignation and wondered just how she had come to dislike this dwarf so much. She observed as her captor wandered toward the broken wall away from them.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions."

Enya turned her attention to him as the baritone of his voice pulled her from her musings.

"I am pleased to see you still live." The elven mage smiled slightly.

Enya found that she believed him, though she couldn't understand why he would have any investment in her well-being, what-so-ever.

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,'" Varric's voice answered her question.

Enya turned her attention toward him in surprise, "You seem to know a great deal about it all."

"Solas is an apostate. His knowledge of magic transcend what most mages would be allowed to learn traditionally," Cassandra offered.

"Free of the Circles, Cassandra, we are all apostates" Solas rebuked and though his tone changed little Enya could tell he defended those with magic through these few words, "It is true, my knowledge is well outside the subjects taught within the Magi. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Given the nature of the Breach, I felt I might be of good use here. If it is not sealed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

Enya was surprised by this, and by how easily and calmly he explained himself, "That's a commendable attitude."

"Merely a sensible one" he corrected and then added bitingly, "Although sense appears to be in short supply right now."

The elven warrior raised an eyebrow, taken aback, but he had turned away from her, "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I've seen. Your prisoner is nomage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

Cassandra's expression drew grim, "If that is true, then we must make it to the forward camp with all haste."

The human warrior left, as did Varric. Enya turned to Solas as he too made to depart.

"I think I owe you my thanks." She commented quietly.

He shifted his gaze to stare directly at her. With the measured candor of an intellectual, he replied, "I would not thank me yet. If the Breach has closed and you remain then, your gratitude would be well founded."

The elven mage turned away from her. Despite the grimness of his comment, Enya found that she appreciate the honesty it held. She did not truly expect to live through this, and the fact that he did not try to reassure her with unlikely falsehoods or allusions to a future that might not exist were oddly reassuring in and of themselves. She followed after him quickly, not wishing to linger where so recently there had been a rift through the fabric of Thedas' reality.

The second rift was more difficult to close, perhaps because she did not have the aid of Solas' magic and focus to guide her in completing the task. Nevertheless, it exploded, just like the last. Enya gasped, clenching her fist tightly as it twinged again. Cassandra turned to her.

"We are here."

The gates swung inward slowly toward a bridge bearing tents and tables. Enya glanced around herself, noting the thinly veiled expressions on the soldier's faces at seeing her in the flesh. She steeled herself to ignore them, drawing to her tallest height and lifting her chin. As she did so, her eyes settle on the familiar hood of a tall woman. Leliana's arms were crossed over her chest as she argued with a man in Chantry robes. They poured over sheets of paper on the wooden table before them, gesturing. They both looked up at the approach of the group.

"Chancellor Roderick, this is…"

Enya came to a stop near Leliana. Cassandra stood just behind her shoulder, hand on the hilt of her sword.

"I know who you bring here, and I despise it," Roderick looked directly at her, and then shifted his gaze to Cassandra, "Seeker Pentaghast, I expected better judgment from the Divine's Right Hand. You have her unbound, walking freely as if she is a comrade and not the prisoner she is?" he turned his gaze to Enya again his eyes burning with hatred, "She should be in chains in a convoy to Val Royeux to await execution for what she has done. I order you to take her there!"

Cassandra stepped toward him, and Enya moved back away from her.

"You haven't the power to order me, Grand Chancellor. In title only you might seem the more powerful but I am the Right Hand of The Most Holy."

"Divine Justinia is dead, Seeker. You haven't the power you used to." Roderick combated.

"And yet still she carries more than you," Leliana rose to her comrade's defense.

Roderick looked between them, "So it is an alliance between the two of you. You would overthrow the will of the Chantry, make a spectacle of this chaos and delay the appointment of a new Divine."

Enya felt her hand pulse painfully again, and she hissed in pain. The skin on the back of her neck tingled as it subsided, and she flicked her emerald eyes around to catch Solas staring at her hand through narrowed ones. He nodded to her and broke eye contact. Flexing her hand again and gathering her strength, she stepped forward.

"What about the Breach?" she called out and thank the elven gods of old that her voice flowed with strength and ease behind each word, "Should not our mission first be to close it before it swallows our world?"

Roderick looked as though his eyes might fall from his face, "How dare you speak of the Breach as though it was not at your hand. How dare you…" he trailed off under the gaze of the two imposing women before him, "Our fight is hopeless. Call commander Cullen, Seeker, tell him his men should retreat."

"No," Cassandra responded tersely, "I will not ask these men to give up when a solution might be close at hand. We _can_ close the Breach. All we must do is get to the temple."

Roderick laughed "You will be going through a horde of demons to get there, Seeker Pentaghast. Even with the whole army at your back, you would not survive that journey."

"There is another way," Leliana added her soft voice to the mix, "The army could make the charge. You would not be with them." She gestured up at the mountain that towered above them covered entirely in ice and snow.

"It would be suicide," Cassandra replied, "For them and for us. An entire patrol of scouts disappeared up there."

Enya's eyes roamed the side of the mountain, and she shuddered at the thought of the bitter, icy wind tearing at her figure, trying to pull her from the side. A huge rumble shook the valley again and again; Enya cried out as the pain stabbed her hand and forearm like a blade fresh from the forge. As it subsided, she realized that eyes had turned to her.

"And what do you think?" Cassandra asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Enya blinked a few times, still clearing away the fog of the pain. The rift was growing, and it would keep growing. Even without knowing what had cause the scouts to disappear, it would probably be much quicker, perhaps even the safer route. She looked Cassandra dead in the eye and replied.

"We make for the mountain."

Roderick scoffed from his position behind the table. As they moved off, he called out, "You doom us, Seeker."

Leliana left them as they passed through the gate on the other end. Cassandra grasped her shoulder and uttered, "Bring everyone from the valley. Leave no one behind."

Leliana nodded to her and then ran across the bridge in the opposite direction.


	4. Once More Unto the Breach

a/n- well, after three days I am happy to say that I have over 20 readers that have made it through to here. Thank you, so much. I'm going to do my best to keep updating like this but I have a fair bit of work to do for my classes that I'm going to have to acknowledge as some point no matter how much I don't want to. Anyway, this is the longest chapter thus far and contains what I believe to be some of the most fun writing I've had the chance to do in a while. The biggest challenge of this story so far has been unifying the narrative elements of the game with the actual gameplay in a way that makes it seem believable and realistic. Hopefully I have managed that here. And on that note, enjoy!

Once More Unto the Breach

The path was colder than Enya had expected, and much higher than it appeared. Her ribs ached and pinched as she struggled to maintain steady breathing while they climbed the mountainside. She was sorely tempted to take another of the healing potions Cassandra had given her but given their destination, she thought better of it.

No one spoke during the long ascent, not even when Varric slipped on a sheet of smooth ice concealed under the snow. Solas had merely reached out and grabbed the dwarf's elbow to steady him. Varric nodded and then the continued up the long slope. Only when they reached a series of wooden platforms and ladders that looked as though they had seen better days did anyone utter a word.

"Our target should be just ahead. A cave of sorts, that passes through the mountain." Cassandra commented.

Enya grasped the ladder and started up.

"What is this tunnel that we must pass through? What is its purpose?" Solas called out to the human warrior as she started up the ladder.

"It was a mining complex. They dot these hills like livestock." She replied.

"You think the scouts may still be inside?" Varric called up.

"If they are smart, they would be better to stay in there than out in the open. And I don't expect Leliana's people to be untrained." Cassandra replied.

With tense air, Solas commented, "Let us not forget that they may not be in the tunnel of their own volition. It could be that they are held there against their will."

Cassandra's response was weary, resigned. Enya wondered then how many times she had been on missions like this, humoring her companion's words while charging on herself, with little care for the danger that lay ahead. At least it seemed that way. They zigzagged through the series of old stone and weathered wood, moving upward as quickly as they dared.

Enya crested the top of their climb first and spotted the arched entrance of the tunnel just to her left. She moved forward a few steps but then hesitated. She knew how to wield a sword, but these demons were more than anything she had encountered. If armed and trained scouts could not handle them, it was unlikely she could do much damage herself. Cassandra was the first the reach the top of the climb, and she came to stand by her prisoner. Enya loosed the greatsword from her back as Cassandra drew her blade. There was a click as Varric snapped a bolt into his crossbow. A burst of bluish light seemed to surround them. They turned the corner and entered the cavern.

When they stepped out the other side of the cavern, it was to relative silence. The part of Enya's mind embroiled with the deaths of the demons under her blade thus far tried hard to shake her resolve but she pushed it away. They were demons, fallen through the Breach to destroy the fabric of Thedas. They did nothing but attack and kill.

Cassandra stopped them a ways down the path with a wave of her hand. Enya spotted the blood, a bright crimson orange across the snow, a trail leading to a hedge. She knew before Cassandra rose what it meant.

"A scout, one of the party we sent up here." She turned back to them, "They were not as lucky as we were."

Enya bowed her head, eyebrows knitted together in consternation.

"We cannot determine the fate of the whole party based on one body," Solas' voice rang out clearly, "Some may yet be alive." He paused and Enya followed his gaze up toward the sky, "But the Breach must be our priority. If we do not meet with them on our way, we cannot afford the time it would take to search for them."

Enya seemed to be the only person who found this statement callous, for both Varric and Cassandra nodded their agreement and set off again. The elven warrior licked her lips and then followed, hooking the sword onto her back again as she did. She needn't have worried that they would leave the rest of the scout party behind on the mountain at the mercy of demons, for hallway down into the valley encountered them, cornered behind a jagged tear in the veil. At first it seemed the demons were no different than the first, wraiths and shades but then emerged two taller creatures with long limbs and tails. Their voices were hideous grating screams that assaulted her elven ears. She tried not to shy away from the noise and swung her sword before her with all the strength she could muster.

As the last of the demons fell, she spun around, so close to the rift that its energy rushed across her skin like a hot breeze. She thrust her had forward with greater confidence than she had with the last and the rift burst, dissipating with a few whisps of green energy. She breathed heavily a few times as the pain in her hand abated for the moment.

"Your proficiency is far greater than I had expected."

Enya turned to Solas as he spoke. He was considering her again with that curious, intellectual gaze and she couldn't help but feel slightly affronted by it. He seemed not to notice that in most people, herself included, found intense observation of this sort unnerving.

"I just hope you can do that with the big one," Varric commented as he walked past and held out a hand to help a wounded scout up from the ground.

Cassandra did the same with someone they could only assume was the party's leader.

"Thank the Maker!" the woman commented, "I thought we were finished until you arrived Lady Cassandra. I don't think we had much more in us."

Cassandra nodded and turned her gaze to Enya, "Your gratitude is misplaced, Lieutenant. You should be thanking our prisoner. Taking this path was her decision."

Enya could hear the shock that must cover the woman's face in the timbre of her speech.

"Prisoner? Then you're…" the Lieutenant trailed off.

Enya drew herself up into a defensively proud stance. Her ribs shifted sickeningly and she almost stopped midway, but continued. She turned to Cassandra, wanting not to be forced to explain herself, "We should keep going. The Breach should be our priority."

Only after the words left her mouth did she realized that her words echoed those of Solas earlier, that she had thought so heartless. At least the lives of the missing scouts were no longer being considered forfeit.

Cassandra nodded and turned to the head scout, "We've cleared the path back to our camp. You should go before the demons return."

"At once, Lady," the scout responded.

She and her party moved off as quickly as their injured bodies would allow.

"It seems that the path ahead is clear as well," Solas commented.

"Then let us move before that changes," Cassandra's voice, though confident and strong, betrayed a hint relief, "We have not come this far only to be stopped now."

They set off down the side of the mountain and met with ladders the same as before, long and tall onto platforms that seemed hardly strong enough to bear weight. But they made it to the bottom without incident. Enya rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks for now she saw the destruction caused by the Breach, or perhaps the explosion that had torn open the Veil, she didn't know. Jagged spikes of rock rose from the charred black surface of the mountain. There was nothing left of the temple that she could see from where they stood. Green glowing lines wove through the crags of the rocks that had taken its place. They towered over the valley floor as tall as the temple had been itself, if not even taller. She could not stop a small intake of breath both awed by the spectacle of it and terrified by the thought of having been inside when such an event had occurred. The elf finally understood why they thought she must have caused this for it seemed impossible that anyone but the person who knew such an event would occur could have made it out alive. The enormity of it, gripped her and she shuddered.

"That is where you walked out of the Fade," Cassandra commented, "And our soldiers found you."

Enya tore her eyes away from the sight and focused instead on her captor, "I was in there?"

She asked, for want of something to fill the silence other than the violent rumblings of the Breach itself.

"I've heard them say that there was a woman behind you, through the rift. No one has been able to say who she was." Cassandra responded and walked on down the sloping path.

Enya followed her, silent now as she experienced the horror of her surrounding for the first time, to her memory. There were burned bodies half melted into the ground. It was clear they had been running and were fused in place where they stood. Some were still burning, flames jumping from the sockets of eyes or from the gaping holes of mouths frozen forever in a scream. She shut down her mind soon, focusing on her breathing and on the brisk jog the party had taken up to get to what seemed to be the only entrance to this great jagged crater in the middle of the mountains.

The Breach swirled above them now and Enya's hand pulsed all the more painfully as they drew ever nearer as though something was trying to pull its way out of her mark, as though there was a magnetic attraction between it and the tear in the fabric of reality.

More bodies, worse bodies awaited them inside the temple amid piles of rubble they lay, unidentifiable. She watched as the members of her party spread out slightly in the space, under the green light from the rift. Enya looked up and saw soldiers, living ones, filing through a door they had not noticed. Leading them was Leliana.

"Cassandra!" she rushed over, "I was worried you would not make it."

Cassandra did not respond and turned to look at their surroundings, then she commented, "Have your men guard the perimeter. We will make our way to the center."

If Leliana was hurt by Cassandra's uncaring response, she did not show it. The red-haired woman nodded and hurried back to the soldiers who had followed her. Enya turned back to the Breach, staring at the shifting crystalline structure that seemed to float at its heart. Both were high over the floor at the center of the crater.

"Are you ready to end this?" Cassandra's voice pulled her back to where she stood.

Enya took a deep breath, "I will try," she paused, looking at it again, "I'm not sure how I'd even begin to get up there."

Solas spoke in response to this, "This Breach was the first. Seal it, and we can stop the flood of the demons into our world. You _will _be able to reach it."

Enya could not tell whether he had meant it as a reassurance or a warning. Regardless of his meaning, she shook it off and looked once more to the center of what had once been the temple.

"We'll need to find a way down," she commented, glancing at the levels below.

There was no response to this from her party. They only began to move off, running around the curve of the temple. A voice, louder than the cracks of the Breach echoed around the crater, reverberating off the mountains and crags.

"Bring the Sacrifice," it ordered rasping and deep.

Enya heard fear in Cassandra's voice for the first time as she next spoke, "What are we hearing?"

"My guess would be the events that preceded the formation of the Breach," Solas answered, his voice calm.

They kept running even as their footsteps fell on blood red crystals that seeped orangey red mist into the air. Varric's voice broke the silence as well then but its usual cockiness was missing.

"This is red lyrium, Seeker," he commented, "Why would it be here?"

"The magic used to create the rift might have drawn it from the stone under the temple and corrupted it." Solas responded, but if he were going to say more on the matter his words were lost as the voices from the Breach began anew.

"Hold the sacrifice still!" the man's dark voice commanded.

Through it there came a second call as they found their way down to the level just below them.

The think Orlesian accent filled the woman words as she cried out, "Someone help me!"

They had stopped running and now stood on the precipice of the temple floor. Cassandra gasped.

"That is the voice of the Divine!" The warrior's voice was filled with pain.

Enya surprised herself by being the first to leap down onto the floor. There were a few soldiers standing there, all of whom backed away as her mark sparked to life with her proximity to Breach. She drew herself up, the glows of the rift casting a green pallor over the features of her face. The Vallaslin that framed her eyes and dotted her chin stood out in stark contrast to the white of her skin.

"Someone, help me!" the voice of the Divine called again, louder as they were nearer.

There was a long paused, and then a response came to her calls. Enya's heart froze in her chest as she heard her own voice answer.

"What's going on here?"

Her eyes darted to the mark on her hand and then back over her shoulder as Cassandra spoke, striding forward several steps.

"That was _your _voice," she stated halfway between and accusation and plead, "She called out to you!"

If Enya was going to respond, she would not have been able to for as soon as Cassandra's words finished they were engulfed in a bright light. The rift seemed to expand and swallow them. They were standing in a room. Enya saw herself run into a room. Apprehension grew in her chest and she wondered why she had no memory of what was happening.

"What's going on here?" memory Enya asked as she came to a stop, gazing up at Justinia suspended in the center of the room. Her attention turned to the looming, shapeless figure whose eyes burned with red flame.

"Run while you can!" The Divine called out, "Run!"

Memory Enya was too slow to react, however and the tall figure ordered his followers to kill her. The vision ended with a ripping sound a blinding light. Cassandra's small glimmer of trust in her seemed to fall away in an instant. The woman attacked her with accusatory words.

"You _were_ there! Who attacked?" she paused for only a second yet her tone changed filling with the desperate vestiges of hope, "and the Divine is she… Was this vision true? What are we seeing?"

Enya remained silent through her questioning, staring at one small spot on the ground but as her captor's words die off she stepped forward.

"I don't know," she replied with absolute certainty, "I don't remember."

"These are echoes of what transpired. The past and memories bleeding through from the Fade," The mage spoke up from his position near the Breach. He was gazing up at it but as they move to his side her turned around, "This rift has been temporarily sealed, albeit improperly." He fixed his eyes on Enya as she came to a stop, "You will have to open it before you can try to seal it permanently."

"That sounds risky," Varric commented. He had remained silent since their encounter with the red lyrium.

"It is a risk," Solas responded, "but a necessary one." He turned to Cassandra, "Opening the breach will not go unnoticed in the Fade."

"Demons," She growled and raised her voice, "Soldiers, be at your ready!"

Enya watched as the soldiers high above them drew back their bows, fingers drawing level with the edge of their jaw. Other's stepped forward to the perimeter of their level swords, mauls and axes brandished with shield raised before their chests, all bearing the symbol of the Chantry or the one painted on Cassandra's chestplate.

The elf stretched her fingers again and gave her shoulders a quick roll. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Varric directing some of the men to spread out more. She wondered how long he'd been fighting. It seemed that none of it bothered him. To her left, Cassandra fixed her with a hard stare. Enya met it, knowing that if she did not, it would convey to the woman a guilty conscience or an uncertain spirit, neither of which she wanted to portray. Finally, her captor nodded and drew her sword from its sheath with on deft stroke.

She squared herself with the Breach, tucking a shoulder behind her, making herself smaller to whatever my come through. Her ribs and her hand were damage enough from which she had to heal on the off chance that she somehow managed to survive this battle. She gingerly lifted her hand before her and felt the energy tear from it, arching up to the rift above her head. This was different than before, she was tunneling into it, pulling back section after section to open its awkwardly sealed state. The moment it burst open, she was thrown back.

With a solid painful thud, she caught herself before hitting the ground entirely. Her emerald eyes opened wide as she saw the massive demon emerge from the rift, its skin covered in spikes and its 9 eyes gleaming in the green glow of the door now open to the Fade. A hand grabbed her elbow and pulled her up as the other soldiers, Cassandra, and Varric charged. She nodded her thanks to Solas and drew her sword as he did his staff. The elven warrior dove forward as the demon knocked the arrows that flew, at Cassadra's behest, out of the air as though they were no more than a scattering of pebbles. The beast roared, shaking the ground but she hardly heard. The world seemed muted against the rush of blood in her head as she attacked. Her heart pounded as she fought to weaken it so that she might close the rift. It lashed out with a whip of lightning and she leapt back to avoid it. They wore it down and as it bent of to draw more power, she took her chance to try to disrupt its connection to the fade. And explosion of Fade energy burst from the Breach stunning it. The soldiers around her attacked with renewed vigor but she did not join them.

Two shades emerged from the Breach. She attacked first, drawing them away from those fighting the larger demon. She took on both at once, attempting to rend their hard skin open with each stroke of her greatsword. One fell, then the other and she took a couple breaths before attempting to cut off their adversary's connection again. The burst of green energy stunned the demon again, and again shades fell through. She thanked Mythal that she was faster than they were as she danced around them, using the swings of her heavy sword to give her more momentum, it seemed to be working; they were weakening with each blow. But so was she, Enya realized. With each strike, the next was that much slower and less powerful and in this moment of revelation she failed to see the end of the larger demon's whip of lightning streaking toward her. It struck her in the back and she collapsed to the ground in unconsciousness.

Cassandra, stabbed upward toward the demon's belly, aiming to strike between the plates that covered it but the tip of her sword merely scratched the plate beneath it. She sighed and shook her head to clear it, letting out a heavy breath. Her eye fixed on a figure lying prone on the ground and squinted. In her concentration she was only just able to miss a blow from the pride demon that towered over her. A soldier flew past her and from his position as he landed, she was certain he was dead. Two shades stood over a form that she was suddenly very certain was her prisoner.

"No!" she called out in frustration and rushed over, ducking under a sweep of the demon's arm.

This was their only chance! If this small, suspicious elf was dead, then it was unlikely there would be another opportunity for them to hold off the destruction of Thedas. The Seeker threw her body weight and the speed of her run into one of the shades and used her momentum to twist past it, sword arm outstretched. Her blade slipped through the would-be face of the other and it screeched before dissolving because into the Fade. She turned to face the other, careful to put herself between it and the limp form on the ground. It attacked and then fought, but it was not match for her. In a matter of seconds, it met it's comrade in on the other side.

Cassandra let out a breath again and then knelt next to her prisoner, taking stock of the Pride demon's position as she did so. It was still a good distance from her. She pressed to fingers to the elf's neck and waited. A sigh of relief escaped her and her head fell forward as she felt the flutter of a pulse under them. The seasoned warrior, lifted her head and search the battlefield for Solas. He was not far off, throwing ice blasts at the demon to slow it.

"Solas!" she called.

He spun to look at her, his last spell landed and Pride let out a great bellow as it hit. It lashed out again with it lightning whip. The running Solas ducked underneath it and continued, tossing spells back at the demon. Cassandra shifted as he reached her, allowing him access to her unconscious prisoner.

"Get her back, Solas," She ordered and then turned and ran back into the fray, hoping to keep the demon occupied while the mage worked.

Enya gasped and then coughed as she woke on the cold ground. She glanced around and snapped to her senses as the roar of the huge demon shook the valley again. There was a boot in her immediate field of view, she realized, and roll pushed herself up to insect its owner. Solas crouched beside her, an impassive expression on his face. He rose and pulled her up by an elbow.

"You should take more care," he warned.

Enya bent and picked up her greatsword, realizing as she did that her ribs no longer hurt. He turned back to the fight, hurling a blast of ice at the demon. She followed his example and ran toward it, her sword balanced between her hands. She swung hard as she got close, the tip cutting into the ankle of the beast. It howled and she swung again, back the way she had come, and for good measure, spun, bringing the sword down hard on its foot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Varric aim his crossbow at it. The demon screamed as the bolt found its eyes and dissipated into the fade.

"NOW!" Cassandra's yell pierced the airs as the crystalline structure disappear to be replaced by a deceptively calm cloud.

Enya thrust her hand out before her. She poured all of her concentration into it, her energy, everything she could into it. The mark exploded forth with a force she did not expect. The world ceased to exist to her. IT was only the great tear in the Veil before her and the stream of energy that connected her to it that had any meaning. There was a pulse at the center of it that seemed to grow larger as she stared and then quite suddenly that pulse burst and light enveloped everything.

Sound, sight, smell, the sensation of wind on her skin rushed back all at once. Enya staggered a couple steps, coughing slightly. She thought she might have tasted blood. Her body hit the ground like a stone, her eyes closed tightly.


	5. Who Expects An Inquisition

a/n- Well, I think I have enough stored away that I might not have to take a break. There is a lot that I've added here, simply because the game takes a lot of condensing what would have happened over several days into a few hours, which I found great for gameplay value, but not so wonderful for storytelling. SO here we are. Also, I have 252 views now and still no reviews. I hate to be that author, but I would really love one, just one, to make my heart feel a little bit happier. On that note, please enjoy this next installment.

Who Expects An Inquisition

Her eyes opened and she was surprised to find herself in a brightly lit room. A bowed wooden ceiling caught and reflected the soft light of a fire that crackled quietly at her side. Enya blinked a few times and flexed her hand. The pain was still there. Did that mean she was alive? She glanced around, taking noticed of the windows to the outside where a rich green pine tree stood and to the furs that hung on the wall. A bookcase was there as well and a writing desk in the corner. She lay on well-made bed cushioned by a mattress that she suspected was made of feathers and not straw like those to which she was accustomed.

In the corner, there say a caged raven. It let off a gentle churling sound every once in a while and the birds outside were singing. All of this, she concluded, meant that she was alive. The bird cocked his head and let out a loud caw under her inquisitive gaze. An elf with short, puffy hair walked into the room carrying a box. Enya turned to look at her, blinking her green eyes. The elf let out a cry and dropped the crate before her.

"I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't know you were awake," she seemed to struggle to find her words, as though frightened.

"It's alright," Enya responded slowly as she pulled herself up from the bed, "You haven't disturbed."

"If I could have your forgiveness it would lighten my heart," the elf replied, "I am not worthy or your presence."

The servant dropped to the ground in a deep bow and Enya's confusion at this response forced her to question her assessment that she was, indeed, still living.

"I only just…" she trailed off, unsure what to say in response to the other elf's words.

"My lady, you saved us. You stopped the Breach from growing any larger," The elf commented, still not looking up from the ground, "Your tale has made it all over Haven in the three days you have slept."

Enya jolted to attention, "_Three _days?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. I know no more information to tell you," the servant slowly rose from the ground, "When they brought you here Lady Cassandra informed us that we were to find her at once if you were to awaken or…" She closed her mouth quickly, turning for the door.

"Where…" Enya began but she was cut off as the other elf said.

"I must tell her the news," She pulled the door open and ran out it.

Enya sighed. So she hadn't been the only one to think those moments her last. She wondered how close she had come to slipping into the Beyond. Her hand pulsed, glowing brightly and spreading a dull ache through her arm again. If she'd sealed the Breach, why was it still glowing as it did?

She rose from the bed and crossed to the writing desk on which sat a note scribbled in practiced script. It described her condition when they had brought into what she presumed was her healer's care. He didn't seem concerned about her condition, beyond the magic of her mark. Sighing, she laid the paper on the desk, wonder vaguely why Solas had not healed her as he had done before during the battle as clearly he had looked in. Then again, perhaps he was unable to because of the cause of her sleep.

Enya turned and rooted through the box the elf had dropped. There were a few sprigs of elfroot in it. Perhaps they had been supplying her with to stave off a fever. She picked them up and laid them on the desk as she searched for her rudimentary armor and put it on. She slipped the elfroot into the pocket with the restorative potions Cassandra had given her and took on last breath before moving toward the door.

It swung open with a gentle push, and the elf stepped outside. On the threshold, Enya stopped as she spotted the lines of soldiers standing before her, right fist clenched over their hearts. She drew a quick breath, overwhelmed by this silent pledge. Snow fell gently over the scene as she took several, slow hesitant steps forward. She could not decide what to make of this display other than to be awed by it.

As Enya moved forward, she could only assume that their organized line directed her on her path to whomever she was meant to meet and so she followed it, heading from the small cabin in which she had woken, through the white and brown paths up toward the stone Chantry.

"That's her, that's the Herald of Andraste," Enya heard someone whisper to their companion as she past.

She nearly stopped dead in her tracks at the title. They thought that she was somehow chosenn. Her mind spiraled inward on itself. An elf the chosen of one of their Gods. She pushed it aside, glancing skyward as she heard someone comment on the Breach and her task. There is was, in the sky, still glowing and rotating, a vortex into a bent world, hovering over the mountains. A rush of disappointment hit Enya as she saw it, but she pushed it away. She might not have closed it completely, but she had made a greater difference than anyone else had.

The doors of the Chantry were heavy and huge, easily her height again. She pushed them open and entered. It was mostly silent inside, but for the echoing of and argument from the door at the end. Enya heard Cassandra's voice and was stunned to hear the woman advocate for a stay of trial on her behalf. She entered the antechamber.

"Guards, put her in chains," Chancellor Roderick stepped forward as the door swung open.

Cassandra let out a derisive sound of irritation and responded, "Ignore that. Guards, leave us."

Both of the tall men at the door stood at attention and bowed their heads as they excited. Enya watched this interplay before turning back to the three people gathered around the table.

"Your choices are dangerous, Seeker," Roderick spat at her his tone rife with anger and embarrassment.

"As are yours, Chancellor. Even with the Breach stable, we would be fools to consider the threat ended," Cassandra fixed him with a pointed gaze, "I refuse to send our best chance at survival away for a pointless trial."

"Pointless?" Roderick responded pacing away from the table, "Are we to stop sending people to Val Royeux simply because they bear strange and convenient markings."

Enya drew into herself a bit, straightening as his thinly veiled accusation landed. She turned to him, speaking up for herself, "I nearly _died _to seal the Breach."

"Yet here you are, standing before me. As I have said, convenient." Roderick replied, "And last I checked the Breach has remained."

"But it has stopped spreading," Cassandra interjected stepping closer to him, "Chancellor, your paranoia where this issue is concerned does you a disservice."

Roderick's face had grown red as blood rushed to it in anger.

Leliana stepped forward, "And the Breach is not all we should be concerned about." She approached as well, "There is the matter of whomever caused the explosion at the Chantry as well. Whomever is responsible has access to great power. We cannot be certain they will not strike again." She leaned toward him as she said these word.

The implication hung in the air for a few moments before the ruddy color that had leaked into Rodericks cheeks darkened even further. Enya took a step back, knowing he would not linger in the room for much longer under such scrutiny from these women.

"You accuse me?" he responded slowly, "But you believe _she _is innocent?! The elf who walked out of the Fade at the center of an explosion that destroyed the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"

"I saw the memory of what happened there, Chancellor." Cassandra stepped even closer, "The Divine called for her help."

He snorted, "And you think this a coincidence?"

"Providence," the Woman responded with finality, "In our most desperate hour, the Maker gave us her."

Enya looked to Cassandra and then to Leliana. Both seemed to hold strong conviction in this belief that she was somehow chosen. Roderick alone, seemed unconvinced. Him and herself, that was.

"I'm no chosen one, Cassandra," It was the first time se dared use Cassandra's name.

Cassandra fixed her with a stern gaze, "And why are you so certain you cannot be?"

Enya stared at her with open surprise, "I am and elf, a Dalish elf. My only salvation is that I do not also have the burden of being a mage."

"The Maker cares not for your faith. Who he chooses is his decision alone," Cassandra replied, "It matters not that you do not believe in him."

"And you really think that I…" she trailed off.

From where she stood she watch Cassandra move away toward a table near the back of the room. The woman stood over it for a moment, her hands outstretched over something. She picked the object up, turning back to them.

"The Breach is still a present threat," Leliana responded softly stepping toward her, "and your mark is the only thing that has had any affect," she paused, "Yes, I do."

Enya drew in a deep breath absorbing this woman's faith in her. She had learned from a young age that she was not to trust humans, the Shemlan as they were called, were evil, dangers and would take advantage of her lowered social status. Here she stood now and they were raising her higher than themselves.

"You haven't the power to make these decisions, Seeker," Roderick declared fixing his eyes on the woman who stood next to him.

Cassandra slammed a book down on the table with both hands, eyes blazing. Enya stared at the metal sun on the cover, the symbol of the Maker and of the Chantry. It seemed and old book.

"This gives us the power," She stated, finger pressed into the books cover, "A writ from the Most Holy, calling for the reformation of the Inquisition of old. We have the authority to act outside of the structure of the Chantry."

The warrior stepped up to him. Enya noted that she was taller and the effect of Cassandra's closeness meant that Roderick had to look to meet her gaze. It was a clever tactic.

"We do not need your approval. The Breach will be closed, this chaos between the mages and the Templars will be brought to an end. You cannot stand in our way," She poked him in the chest.

Roderick seemed to know that he had lost and respect he might have once had from the room's occupants. His eyes darted from person to person and then he left with a haughty puff of breath. Enya stared at the door until it closed before looking down at her feet and then back up at Cassandra and Leliana. The former still stood by the wall eyes boring into the stone before spinning back to the table. Leliana stepped forward and ran a hand over the book before her, caressing its spine before lifting it.

"It was the wish of the Most Holy that the Inquisiton be reborn," Leliana gripped the book between her hands tightly, "Our numbers are small and we have lost the support of the Chantry but our cause is strong. _We_ must stand against the chaos," she laid the book gently back on the table and looked up, directly at Enya, "If we do not, no one will."

Cassandra too squared her position to focus on her former prisoner, "Will you stand with us?"

Enya looked from one to the other pondering how quickly the tides of her fate had changed. One moment, she was certain she would not live, the next the very people who would have so recently signed her death warrant were asking for her help.

"If you truly intend to restore order," Enya said and she was pleased to hear the strength and confidence she felt in the steadiness of her words.

The corner of Cassandra's mouth quirked upward triumphantly. She proffered a hand.

"It is what we intend." She affirmed.

"Then I will do what I can to ensure the strength of your order," Enya grasped hands with the other woman and shook.

Cassandra gave her a solid nod of acknowledgement, releasing her hand. She backed away, a smile on her face for the first time since the explosion of the Conclave. The elf let out a long breath as the realization of true freedom sunk in as well as a new sense of purpose. No longer was she simply visiting a place to spy for her clan or to scout prey in the woods for the more experience hunters to fell.

"With the Herald of Andraste on our side, we should gain considerable support." Leliana commented with a smile, "I must send my people so rumors to spread." She walked around the table, "I'll take my leave."

She was out the door just as Enya started to wonder what she meant by rumors. The elf shifted in the momentary silence. After such an important conversation anything else that might be said seemed trivial by comparison. Cassandra moved to the table where she had recovered the book. The warrior drew a quill from an inkwell and scratched something onto a piece of paper. Then she turned and handed it to Enya.

"With such a momentous decision, there is bound to be retaliation," She voiced.

Enya watched as she paced to a corner where there stood rolls of some sort of parchment or hide.

"People will attack?" Enya asked, her eyebrows knitting together slightly.

"Not in a true sense, no," Cassandra commented as she unrolled one of the parchments to reveal a map, "But people will feel insulted by our decision. Those too self-righteous to realize the error of their ways will act similarly to our esteemed Chancellor," her tone was acidic, "It will be difficult to prove to all of Thedas that we are not simply another Rebellion."

Enya flinched as she stabbed a small knife into the corner of the map and the table.

"Leliana's ravens will help, but we must also be strong." She looked up after stabbing another corner of the map, "That includes you."

"Me?" Enya replied, slightly indignant at the implication.

"That letter there is for Commander Cullen to tell him to bring his men from the valley to Haven. They are too vulnerable in the open as they are. He will understand this." She stabbed another corner, "You should rest. Regain your strength. We have a long and difficult path to walk and you even more so. Best you gather your strength now than regret the loss of it later. Post that letter on your way."

Enya nodded her head, taking that as her cue to leave. As she closed the door she her the sharp thwack of the fourth knife as it plunged into the final corner of the map. The door clinked shut behind her and she was again alone.

There were few people in the chantry, unlike the last time she had been there, but the town was as busy as it had been the last time she had walked this path. This time, instead of hatred, people's expressions were filled with awe. Occasionally they would dip their heads in greeting somewhere between a nod of respect and a bow of reverence. Enya felt guilt creep into her. They thought she was there by divine intervention, that she was chosen to aid them. She could not see it. Even passing one person as they bless her under the Maker's name seemed and unforgivable lie but she stayed silent, moving instead ahead to the tent in which she had spotted Leliana.

"Herald," Leliana greeted upon her approach, "I would have thought you had retired by now."

"I've slept for the last three days," Enya replied, "I think I have laid around enough."

Leliana laughed, "You say that, but you might be surprised how thankful you are for sleep in a proper bed when you no longer have access to one."

Enya shook her head, "I've slept on a straw mattress or the forest floor for most of my life. Sleep is sleep no matter where I get it," she looked down at the letter in her hand as she watch the red-haired woman tie a small missive to the leg of a raven, "Lady Cassandra asked me to post this, a missive for Commander Cullen."

"Oh, never you worry. I have many letters to post myself. It would just be another letter I must tie to a raven's leg. I will post this for you."

"Thank you," Enya held out the paper to her and the added, "I'd best be going."

She made it a few paces before the woman called after her, "You do not know the torment you have been through. You may have slept for three days, but you were healing from great mental and physical strain. Trust me when I say that you should rest. Your body will need it."

Enya did not respond but the words echoed through her mind, sticking with her as she wandered around the upper level of Haven such that, as she completed her last circuit she found that she truly did feel quite weary. She felt a chill creep through her as the wind blew, throwing a dusting of snow into the air over the railing of the stairs that she descended. It swirled around her, catching in her jet black hair, flecks of white. She shivered and stared around again before moving off to the small house where she had woken. She could only assume that the intention was for her to stay there. No other plan was mentioned.

Before she climbed down the last set of stairs, she spotted Varric by a campfire and paused in her step. The dwarf seemed no to have noticed her. If she truly wanted, she could get away without incident and hurt no one. Then again, she didn't even know if the dwarf that she'd spent barely more than an hour with would really have been hurt by her decision not to stop and speak with him. Enya smiled as he ladelled soup into a bowl, spilling some on his boot and then made some, undoubtedly crass comment to the two soldier sitting on the log opposite him. She shook her head as another wave of exhaustion washed over her and turned away, heading instead for the calming warmth of a fire and the softness of the feather bed. It was true what she had said to Leliana, sleep was sleep, but sometimes a comfortable surface was a welcome convenience.


	6. The Building Blocks of Rebellion

The Building Blocks of Rebellion

As each day went by, Enya watched as the camp around Haven grew, populated by people come to help the Inquisition. Commander Cullen arrived the night of and his soldiers arrived from the valley the night Cassandra's missive had reached him. His soldiers were more than happy to leave the desolate valley the led to the Temple behind them. By the time Enya had woken the next morning, the ringing of swords filled the air. At first she had thought they were under attack but the lack of screams and breaking buildings brought her to her senses. She dressed and went outside to find the source of the sounds. Like the birds that called this mountainside village their home, she climbed atop the stone wall that surrounded it and watch the Inquisition's forces practice their fighting techniques in complex yet repetitive sparing. A man with a heavily furred collar and blonde hair wandered among them, occasionally stopping pairs and correcting their style.

The elf watched in fascination as this man worked with his troops. She pulled up a knee and rested and elbow on it. Her hair was loose, for she had not taken the time to tie or braid it before exiting her home. She brushed it from her face, time and again as the wind buffeted her on her perch. Enya watch for a long while, wondering if she might have the chance to spar with them or, because they knew her as the Herald of Andraste, they might be too afraid to wound her. Her hand burned again, releasing a pain the shot up her arm. She closed it tinto a first to keep most of the magic from seeping out conspicuously. After a few more minutes, she climbed down from the wall and returned to her quarters, exhausted from even that time in the cold.

The raven's Leliana had sent brought news by the second of support or request of the Inquisition. On the morning of that day, a woman, shorter in height, though still taller than Enya, arrived on horseback. Her skin was a soft bronze and her hair dark. She was dressed like a noble and rode on a white horse. As the elf watched from her spot above the gates, she saw the figure of Leliana run out of the city and move forward to take hold of the reins of this woman's horse. They appeared to have a brief argument before the woman in blue and gold dismounted. The two women embraced and then the well-dressed woman allowed Leliana to lead her horse as they walked close to each other, talking animatedly.

A messenger arrived at her door after she'd eaten her morning meal on the third day. The knock rang out and she rose from the table where she had been reading. Enya had fully intended to resume her perch on the wall but other opportunities presented themselves. She answered the door, curiosity dancing in her emerald eyes.

"My Herald," the woman at the door curtsied deeply as she opened it, "Lady Cassandra and Lady Nightingale have sent me to ask you join them in the Chantry's council room."

Enya nodded, "Thank you for letting me know."

"The Maker's blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste," the woman responded, curtsying again before she left.

The elf shut the door behind herself slowly, pressing it shut with her weight. She had questioned over the last few days what her role would be in the Inquisition. It was certain that she wouldn't be just another of the soldiers, nor was she of any status to be a scholar truly. She had certainly read much, but her expertise and skills were focused on tracking, hunting, nothing more than what she had needed to survive as a Dalish elf. Perhaps now she would find out.

Enya moved to the next room, donning her mercenary garb and slipping on her boots. She toyed with the idea of leaving her sword but thought better of it. If they needed to leave immediately from the council room, she would not want to delay their departure by leaving it behind. She strapped its harness to her back, relishing the weight of it and left her small home.

In the days that had passed, she grew used to the reverent gestures of Inquisition soldiers and Haven's inhabitants though it still spoke to her as a lie that she remained silent. Enya walked her eyes fixed determinedly ahead of herself with the exception of a small nod to Varric as she passed him outside his tent. He returned the gesture. As she approached the door to the Chantry building she noticed that on its front, someone had hung the eye and the sun, symbol of the Inquisition as a notice of the Chantry's moderate change in use.

Cassandra stood at the door, waiting for her, "Thank you for coming, Herald." She greeted.

Enya nodded, flexing her hand. The pain had never quite gone away after she had attempted to seal the rift. Though it no longer flared an spread, she still could feel it all the time, more the embers of a fire than the flames. She glanced down to it.

"Does it still trouble you?" The human warrior asked.

Realizing Cassandra must have noticed her fussing, Enya shook her head, "I can manage," she replied, "I just wish I knew from where it came."

"Your actions at the Breach have given us time to find out," The warrior replied, "And, given enough power, Solas has told me that he believes you may yet be able to close the Breach. Power enough to equal that of the person who created it."

"Would we risk making the Breach worse with that much power?" Enya responded.

"Solas seems to feel that it is the only way we could even make the attempt. If it makes it worse, so be it. At least we will have tried to save this world" Cassandra intoned, "But that is for another time. Come, I haven't called you here to talk of "ifs." There are some people you must meet."

Cassandra proceeded down the hall and, after a moment, Enya followed, staring again at her hand. Could she handle more power than she already possessed? The council room door opened to reveal Leliana, the nobly dressed woman who had arrived the day before, and then blonde haired military commander they called Cullen. Enya glanced around at them all as she entered behind Cassandra, standing tall. She approached the table, door to her back and stared at the map laid out before her. There were little pins in places all over its surface and dots demarking cities and towns, lines between ranges of note. It covered parts of the Free Marches, Orlais and Ferelden.

"I present to you, Commander Cullen. He is the leader of the Iquisition's forces."

Cullen bowed his head to her in greeting, "Those that are left. We lost many in the assault on the Breach, and of those that lived, there were some that left ranks when they discovered they would be fighting for a rebellion."

"Not nearly as many as you think Commander," Leliana interjected, "Your men have great faith and loyalty toward you."

He turned to her, "Thank you, Lady Nightingale." Leliana nodded in acknowledgement.

"And this is our ambassador, Josphine Montilyet from Antiva,"

The woman dressed in silks turned to her, "Andaran Atish'an, Mistress Lavellan."

Enya's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline as she widened her eyes, "You speak the People's tongue?"

"Only if you wish me to greet you or thank you, Milady," Josephine replied.

Enya smiled at her honesty.

"You've already met Sister Leliana. She is our Spymaster." Cassandra informed.

"You are always so delicate with your words, Lady Cassandra." Leliana quipped dryly.

Enya looked to the, "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

Josephine gave a small smile and Cullen a nod, just as before. Leliana merely shifted her attention to Cassandra.

"We spoke briefly of the power that Solas believes your mark requires to properly close the Breach, which means that we are stuck with the difficult task of approaching the rebel mages for their aid." Cassandra explained.

With a terse gesture, Cullen disagree, "Respectfully, Lady Cassandra, the Templars are a better chance for aid."

"We need power, Commander, more than any Templar could acquire from Lyrium." The seeker argued.

"The Templars would only need to power to suppress the Breach's magic." Cullen's hand grasped hi sword firmly, "I was once a Templar. I've seen the effect too much power can have on a mage. Pouring the amount of power you and that elven apostate suggest into that mark is dangerous. It is a risk we should not be willing to take. I am surprised that, as a Seeker, you are comfortable with this plan."

Leliana stepped in, "What you suggest has no support, Commander. We have seen the mark work to close the Breach, at least partially. There is nothing to say that increasing the power beyond that of one individual is not the key."

"That much power could make it worse." He replied.

"As could tampering with it in ways that we have not seen have any affect." The spymaster swept a strand of red hair from her face, "Any way we look at this Commander, we are playing with fire. I'd rather try to quell it with water than with oil."

"Achieving a rapport with either order will be difficult regardless," Josephine commented, "The Chantry is unwilling to regard the Inquisition as a legitimate order and has denounced those associated with it." She glanced at Enya out of the corner of her eye, "And you by name."

Enya tightened a hand into a fist, looking away, "They still blame me for the Conclave, for the Divine's death."

"If it were that simple, we would face little opposition," She stepped closer to the table, laying the board she held in her hand down on it. Some wax dripped from the red candle onto the map, "People across Thedas have begun to refer to you as the 'Herald of Andraste.' The knowledge of the woman the soldiers saw behind you before the rift sealed is commonly known now. The people have chosen to believe that it was Andraste herself that escorted you through the Fade and back to the living."

"I would be lying if I didn't say it would be easier were you human. The clerics have found it easier to cause people to question this tale because you are Dalish." Josephine lowered her eyes to a paper pinned to her writing board, "What is more, they are calling it heresy and anyone who falls in with the Inquisition has been labelled a heretic. People are less likely to throw their support with us when it could cause their own religious leaders to renounce their devotion to the Maker."

Enya's fist had grown more tightly closed but now she released it and looked around the table, "Are we in danger here? Does my presence make it more likely that you will be attacked?"

"The chantry have no fighting force. Only their words," Cullen answered lightly, his words tinged with and edge of derision toward the Chantry.

"Words have more power than you realize, Commander," Josephine cautioned.

Leliana commented with a wry smile, "If they did not, you would have little use for me. That is why we have done little to stop the tales of 'The Herald of Andraste' from spreading."

Enya's eyes darted to her, "It is unnerving to think that you might encourage a lie."

Leliana's eyebrows rose in surprise, "And how do you know it is a lie?" she strode around the table, passing behind Cassandra, "You bear a mark on your hand that has the power to seal rifts into the Fade. You survived the explosion that destroy the Temple of Sacred Ashes, you alone. You have stopped the Breach from spreading and you escorted from the Fade by the figure of a woman whose face you cannot remember." She stopped in front of Enya and looked down at her, "You cannot offer me proof that you are or are not chosen by Andraste herself to save us in this dark hour. The people believe this tale because they need something, someone to hope for."

Enya stared back for a moment and then nodded to the other woman. Leliana returned to her spot and then said, "We may not have any sway with the Mages or Templars but one of my Scouts has informed me that there is a Mother Giselle, a Chantry mother that wishes to speak with the Herald. She might be swayed to be sympathetic to our cause."

"Having some Chantry support would be invaluable. If we have an opportunity with her, then we should make use of it." Josephine advised, meeting eyes with Leliana across the table.

Cassandra uncrossed her arms and lean forward on the table examining the map, "Where can we find this Mother Giselle?"

"She's in the Hinterlands at a place they call the crossroads," she gestured to a section of the map, "Ordinarily, I would say that you should go as soon as possible, but the fighting between the mages and Templars is out of control there. The Templars have been ordered back but some of them have refused and the mages are too paranoid of the actions of others. When the Templars refused to the leave the Mages saw it as a threat." She paced a couple steps, "My scouts say that fighting hasn't stopped for days. I don't want to risk you, Herald or the people that will accompany you, therefore it is my recommendation that I have my head scouts investigate the area for possible threats and establish a camp from which you might have access to Inquisition forces should the need arise."

"Agreed. There are too few of us to risk even one of our lives foolishly." Cassandra turned to Enya, "Will you meet with Mother Giselle and hear what she wishes to say?"

Enya stared at the map. The Hinterlands were not far and clearly this was something very important or these members of the Inquisition would not have asked. She had the slight suspicion that in a way this was a test; they wanted to see what she was capable of beyond closing the rifts.

Looking up she declared, "I will hear her out."

The elf observed as the ghost of a smile crossed each of the Inquisition leaders' faces and knew her assumption of this task had been correct. They wanted to see what she would do for them.

"Good!" Leliana stepped away from the table, "I will send word to scout Harding."

She left and Enya quickly followed suit along with Josephine. Cullen and Cassandra remained. The elf looked back over her shoulder at them both, trying to gauge her opinion of Cullen. The two poured over the maps on the table, making grand gestures at the lands laid out before them. She shook her head and turned back to the great vestibule of the Chantry, following its great arched ceiling out into the cold and the snow.


	7. All the Players on the Stage

All the Players on the Stage

After three days of relatively self-imposed solitude and observation, the stagnation that had come to be her life after her attempt to close the Breach seemed to have lifted. Thus, as she returned to her cabin, she stopped at Varric's tent, hoping to find him there.

"Varric?" she called out softly just outside the loose-hanging entrance flaps.

"Come on in," Varric's flat, almost begrudging, voice was muffled through the oiled canvas tent.

Enya pushed the heavy material aside and stepped into the small space. Inside was not much warmer than the outside, she noted, and she starred at the small openings between the ground and the edge of the tent for a moment. The only reason for the warmth was the shelter from the wind it provided. The elf looked over at Varric and widened her eyes in surprise for her sat at a table at the rear of the tent. A ramskin rug adorned the floor beneath this desk arrangement. He held a quill in one hand and the other pressed down on a hide-bound book, holding it open. There were several moments of silence before the dwarf turned around.

"Ah you. I should have known you'd come to see me," Varric commented and then at the look on her face he replied, "I'm a novelist. I write stories about brave people in desperate situations overcoming impossible odds."

"A novelist." She parroted unintentionally.

"Don't worry, it surprised me too," Varric responded easily. He stepped down from his chair and gestured, "Its cold in here. Let's go sit by the fire."

Enya followed him out to the fire. Varric held his hands toward it, warming them.

"So, how are you really? You've been bouncing from on one end of the spectrum or the other since before I met you. First, you're the most wanted person in all of Thedas, then you kept a hole in the sky from swallowing us whole and suddenly became what some would call a divine figure." The dwarf turned to her, "Not exactly what I would call an easy week."

"I just can't make it past how many lives were lost at the Conclave," she looked down for a moment, "But I'm glad that I lived. I have the chance to do something about it."

"That's the spirit. If everyone had that kind of morale around here, it would be a lot less dour of a place." Varric looked up at the Breach, "For days everyone watched every manner of horrible, terrifying and grotesque creature fall out of that thing. And you just walked up there, stuck you hand out and closed it."

Enya studied him for a moment and quipped, "You make it sound like what I did was easy. I did almost die."

"Oh I didn't mean what you did was a small task, on the contrary, I can't quite believe that you did it." He paused and then added, "If I hadn't 'a seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed that if someone told me."

They were silent for a moment and then he added, "Hard to believe anyone survived those days."

"If it was so bad, why did you stay?" Enya asked.

"When it comes right down to it, I'm not half the self-centered bastard I pretend to be." He replied casually, "World goes crazy, I'm not gonna walk away and leave everyone else to sort it out."

"A brave sentiment," Enya commented and stooped to put another log on the fire. It hissed, spitting sparks up into the air.

"Or mad," He commented, watching the sparks fly, "So, was there a reason you came to see me or did you just want to hear a lazy dwarf ramble about the state of our Thedas?"

Enya flexed her hand, looking again down at the gate and then at the dark clouds that had brought snow vanishing beyond the far mountains.

"I'm leaving tomorrow for the Hinterlands." She began stiffly, "I was hoping you would join me."

"I might consider it," Varric's words were filled with a smile, "You need to relax. We here in Haven won't bite your head off. That's what the rest of the world will be trying to do."

Enya smiled and nodded at him before rising, "I should start packing."

"I would ask a couple other people to go with you," he commented, staring up at her from his crouched position, "I've written enough novels to know how stories get started."

Enya's smiled widened, "I'll keep that in mind, Varric."

"You do that," he commented as she walked away.

Enya walked away, then paused on her way down the steps turning. She had assumed that Cassandra would be joining them. It only made sense with a mission that the Inquisition leaders were utilizing to gauge her usefulness they would want someone in a leadership position with her. Cassandra would be an excellent choice, not only with her fighting prowess, but also in the fact that she was not needed permanently for the infrastructure of the Inquisition. Now she thought of it, though, the elf wondered if she shouldn't confirm her assumption. She turned back to Varric.

"Varric?"

Varric glanced up from the piece of meat he was cooking over his fire, "Miss me already?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Enya responded before she could stop herself.

Varric's appreciative chuckle let her know she hadn't fouled their relationship with her candor, "Alright, what did you want?"

"Do you know where I could find, Cassandra?" She asked.

"Hmmm…" he hummed quietly, "Last I saw the Seeker, she was on her way down to the practice grounds with Commander Cullen. Haven't seen her since."

Enya nodded, "I'll try there first then. Thanks, Varric."

"Don't mention it, kid." He responded good-naturedly.

Enya did make her way all the way down the steps this time. The late-afternoon light was beginning to fade and she found herself hurrying along a partially frozen path to the gates. One of the guards pushed open the heavy wood door for her and she nodded thanks to him. He responded with a resounding "Herald" which she tried to ignore. The sound of swords and shield smashing together had died down. Several campfires burned around the encampment surrounded by soldiers eating their evening meal. Enya imagined they would stay at those fires for a good long while, returning only to their cold tents to sleep.

There remained the softest of thunking noises and it grew ever louder as she approached the camp. Beyond the soldiers, she spotted a lone figure hacking viciously at the practice dummies. So much was the case that one of them was actually missing its limbs and head. Enya walked quickly past the other soldiers, hoping to go unnoticed. The idea of more people placing their faith in her by calling her "Herald" seemed unappealing and they would if they saw and recognized her.

It wasn't difficult to understand why, even dressed in dull mercenaries garb, they recognized her. Compared to the elves in Haven she was strikingly different. Where their eyes were hazel and hair a ruddy red, typically cut short, hers were a glowing emerald green and her hair black as obsidian and long, though it was hard to tell since it was almost always pulled tightly to the back of her head. Together, those features made her as identifiable as Cullen's fur collar made him.

From this distance she could recognize Cassandra as the warrior seemingly taking out her frustrations mercilessly on an unsuspecting practice dummy. Enya approached with caution, staying well wide of Cassandra's overpowered swings.

"Everything alright?" she called out as she drew near.

The other woman jumped and lowered her sword, "You shouldn't sneak up on a person wielding a sword."

"I'll keep that in mind." Enya replied and cocked her head to the side, "So, _are_ you alright?"

Cassandra paced away from her and then looked back, "Was this the right decision?"

Enya remained silent watching as she turned back to hitting the dummy.

"Have I turned my back on everything I once held in high regard in my life? The chantry? The Templar Order? My years as a Seeker?" She swung hard, hitting both targets in one sweep.

"They seem me as a traitor now, see us all as traitors. Will I be a madwoman, crazy for power when the historians write this chapter in the history of Thedas?"

"You had no choice," Enya's voice was filled with conviction, "The Chantry, the Templars. You heard what Leliana said, they have all turned their backs on finding a solution, content to live in a world that may someday fall apart to avoid treating with mages, whom they blame instead."

"I was like them not so long ago, as you surely recall," Cassandra dropped her sword on the ground and turned to face her, "I blamed you for what happened at the Conclave. I was so certain, so _happy _to have someone to blame for the death of the Divine that I never stopped to think that you might be a victim."

Enya raised her eyebrows, in surprise. It sounded like Cassandra was apologizing in her own round-about way, "It's not as though you didn't have reason to suspect me."

"I should have allowed doubt. In Val Royeux, a person is presumed innocent until proven guilty. I forgot that." Cassandra lowered her gaze for a moment, "That will not happen again." She paused and Enya felt she was taking stock of a great weight lifting form her shoulders, "Anyway, presumably you did no come down here to hear an old warrior talk. What was it you wanted?"

"Am I correct in assuming that you will be accompanying me to the Hinterlands?" she asked.

Cassandra laughed shortly and then nodded, "You are a sharp one aren't you? Yes, I'll be joining you. This, Mother Giselle would be a valuable asset in our quest to gain influence across Thedas." She picked up her sword from the ground and sheathed it with a click, "I want to be there and confirm that she is the person we hope her to." She gestured, "I wonder, have you asked anyone else to join this expedition?"

"I spoke with Varric just before I came to see you. He will be joining us." Enya watched a decidedly displeased expression cross the Seeker's features.

Despite her obvious objection to his company, Cassandra replied, "He is a good fighter and that crossbow he uses is a better weapon than most I've encountered."

"He has a unique perspective on the world," the elf commented.

"Oh, you mean his fanciful tales? Yes, he certainly manages to create his own version of the facts." The warrior quipped.

They passed Cullen and Cassandra exchanged a curt nod with him. They ascended the steps to the open gates and passed through. Enya turned as the path diverged up the stone stairs to the next level. Cassandra's voice stopped her.

"You should ask Solas to join us."

Enya looked back at her questioningly. It wasn't as though she didn't like Solas it was simply that she was surprised Cassandra would be the one to suggest bringing him along. The woman did not exactly see eye to eye with apostates, even their elven rift advisor.

"He is a talented fighter and his insights are invaluable. After all, we might find ourselves in need of his expertise should we run into any more rifts." Cassandra added as an afterthought, "And in the right situation, I cannot say that a mage is not useful."

"I will speak with him then," the elf responded.

"You'll find him by the apothecary, Herald," Cassandra advised as she left.

Enya slipped into her cottage and pulled a thick wool cloak from a shoeing nail hammered into the door frame. She divested herself of her sword and flung the grey fabric about her shoulders before setting out across the camp. Adan had been grateful, in his own way, for her thanks regarding her recovery but she had not truly spoken to Solas regarding the same thing. In truth, beyond a respectful nod as they past each other during the day, they had scarcely spoken at all. From what she had gathered from the many conversations she had overheard in the tavern, it was not just her that he had not spoken with but everyone. It seemed he spent most of his time by himself, a trait she understood.

There had been a time where all she had done was climb and run through the trees. To some elves, killing had come naturally, a basic skill to survive but not so for her. She scouted out their prey from above in the high branches of the trees in the forests of the free marches. Her keen observational skills and ability to move silently enough to spot an august ram or nug without scarring it away had been the reason Clan Lavellan sent her to the Conclave in the first place.

As she approached his area of camp, she spotted him standing at the upper end of the stairs, eyes fixed on a point just beyond Haven in the valley below. He wore only a pair of green leggings and a tunic, and she wondered how in Thedas he was not chilled to the bone. It was warmer in the Free Marches, much warmer, but she still couldn't see how he could possibly stand the biting wind that blew through Haven.

Enya had nearly reached the stairs up to the terraced level of three houses when her movement finally caught his attention. He smiled slightly at her, lowering his crossed arms.

"The Andraste's chosen, they call you. You are the hero sent to save us all," he commented, his tone daring, questioning and perhaps the faintest bit mocking.

"A hero, I have hope to be, but I am not what they claim I am," She replied defensively.

"Spoken with a most noble intention," he responded tilting his head slightly to one side.

She stared at him hard trying to gauge what he meant by his words. They seemed harsh, harsher than she deserved but she wondered whether or not he meant them as such. Enya crossed her arms over her chest pointedly.

"I meant that, truly, not in jest," Solas amended, "You have been made skeptical by the events of your time. But your hope…" he trailed off and then walked past her to stand by the stone wall that surrounded this section of Haven.

Enya's gaze followed him, even as he turned away from her and she wondered whether their conversation was over before it had even begun.

"I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefield to see the dreams of lost civilizations." He drew a breath and she moved to join him, compelled by his words to come closer, like a child is drawn by the allure of the storyteller, "I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous…and forgotten." He lowered his eyes from the mountain view.

"In my travels I have seen many heroes. I feel I am compelled to wonder what kind you will be," Solas fixed her under his grey gaze.

Returning his stare with an equally strong one of her own she replied, "The kind of hero that remembers that victory is not hers alone. One that remembers that anyone could have fallen into her fate if they had moved at the right moment," she paused, "or heard the right plea."

The corner of his mouth quirked into a half smile at her answer. He lifted his eyes from hers to glance back out at the mountains.

"You have a very honourable spirit," he remarked.

They stood in silence for a moment and Enya drew her cloak closer to her. The pale orange hues of the suns weak rays still shown over the high peaks but only just.

"What do you mean, you have seen ancient civilizations?" she inquired.

"Memories are echoed in the fade by the spirits who were present at great events. Any building that has withstood the tests of time or any place that has seen great bloodshed is rife with them," he replied, "Despite what the Circles would have the world believe, there are spirits whose intentions are no more malicious than your own. They wish only to pass the burden of their wisdom onto other souls."

Enya stared at him, "Then… you enter the Fade?" her voice peaked with surprise.

"Yes. I visit such places, and I dream," he replied, "I go deep into the Fade where there lie secrets and memories no one has dared strive to see."

She raised an eyebrow, "That isn't dangerous?"

"I am safe in the Fade. I have spent years honing my understanding of the Beyond; I can gauge the danger of a spirit when I meet it. I can tell its intentions." Solas turn to her and the corner of his mouth lifted, "You were asking of my sleeping in the ruins."

Enya nodded recognizing the familiar reflex of defending ones beliefs and talents.

"I am rather adept at providing myself with magical wards, and it is easy to appease the creatures that dwell in such places." Again, he smiled almost imperceptibly.

"To go so deep into the Fade… It is an amazing skill." She admired.

"Fadedreaming may not be the most sought after course for a mages. After all, you cannot truly share with others the depth of the memories you have witnessed," her paused, "but the satisfaction of touching on a memory that has long since been forgotten by our world…I would not trade it."

The elven warrior imagined the thrill of running across a piece of lost knowledge and gaining new truths, "If I had your abilities, I would not either."

"Very well," he responded as though affirming something she had yet to ask, "I will aid your Inquisition."

"You were thinking of leaving?" Enya replied, shocked by this revelation. He had seemed to have so much conviction regarding the closure of the Breach.

He stepped back from the wall, walking back along the side of his house before explaining, "I am an elven apostate surrounded by former Templars and members of the Chantry." He paused, "They have been most accommodating thus far, but I cannot trust that their hospitality will hold."

"Well, if they intend to use your offer of help against you they will have me to contend with," Enya reassured.

"And what would that look like? How would you stop them?" Solas' full attention was focused on her now. A flash of relief and perhaps gratefulness filled his expression before it became stoically curious again.

She responded immediately without any thought, "However I had to."

He was silent for a moment, pensive and then a small smile crept onto his face, "You have my gratitude." The elven mage thanked her and then queried, "It seemed you had a purpose for this talk. Was I wrong?"

Enya shook her head, "No. You were not," she paused, "Tomorrow I am leaving for the Hinterlands."

"And you want me to accompany you."

It was not a question but she nodded nevertheless.

"Then I shall be ready." Solas agreed, "I assume we leave at first light?"

"You assume correctly," Enya affirmed, "We won't be on foot so you needn't concern yourself with a light load if you do not wish to."

"I would not burden a horse with more than I would carry myself," the elven mage walked toward the door to his house, "I haven't enough possessions for my back to be heavy regardless," he paused, a hand on his door, "We will speak more in the future, Lavellan, but for now, I think the darkness of the night should be our sign to close our eyes."

Enya looked around herself and realized he was right. They had talked until the last rays of twilight vanished.

"Until tomorrow, Solas," she said in farewell.

He nodded to her and then slipped into his home. Enya made her way down the two flights of stone steps toward her own, taking the long way behind the tavern. A stout Mabari stood by the door. She gave it a pat on the head as she passed it and continued on noting that, with the exception of drunken singing from the tavern, the drunks voices had overtaken the bard's, the camp was silent. Fires burned low and the snow glistened with a mirrored sheen in the moonlight.

She stepped into her home a placed a few of her possessions into a leather pack that someone had left for her. Enya's eyes drifted over the lute in the corner and she stopped for a moment to wonder if she even remembered how to play before putting that notion aside. She did not have the time to spend playing an instrument. There were a long few days of travelling ahead. There would be no sleeping on a feather mattress then. She unfastened her boots and lifted her heavy mercenary shirt from her shoulders before climbing into the soft bed in the corner.


	8. Of Wind and the Wilds

a/n- Well, it has been a few days. Perhaps I should have been a bit more conservative with my original chapters. This chapter is and entirely improvised series of scenes that I found the need to write. At times, the characters were a bit sticky, especially since I've begun playing Origins again along with my second playthrough of Inquisition, but I hope I've done them justice nonetheless. Please, if you have the time, leave a review. I would really like to hear from any of you. I love the writer/reader interaction that can be provided if the time is taken to write a simple three sentences and I really miss that aspect. (Also, my birthday was last Saturday which is why I got nothing written over the weekend.)

Of Wind and the Wilds

It was to the persistent cawing of ravens that she woke at first light. The night had drawn cold and more now had fallen. There was a spiral of it whisped across her floor ad piled lightly on her window sill. Enya climbed from the bed and shivered against the chill, moving to dress in front of the fire place. Halfway through putting on her wool coat she spotted a set of shining scale maille laid across a chair. The tanned leather side patches that would fall over her hips as she wore it stood out against the silver sheen of the metal.

The elf moved to it lifting the armor in her hands and bringing it back by the fire. She examined its fittings for a good few moments wondering when it had arrived in her house. Lifting it again she noted its weight. It would take a while to grow accustomed to it, but this kind of armor would protect her from far more than her current clothes would. Enya dropped her wool shirt on the ground and slid and arm through the shimmering layers of scales on one side and then the other, She fastened the buckles across her left side and then tighten the belt in place. The tanned leather panels fell over her hip, covering the edges of the scale.

Once on, Enya noted that the armour was not at heavy as it had felt in her hands, though there was still a considerable addition of weight. She folded her coat and slipped it into her pack along with the leather bracers. Before shouldering it, and walking out the door. Cassandra and Solas already waited for her at the gate which stood wide as though anticipating their use of it. Solas as he said, carried only a pack, his simple green wool tunic over his long cream shirt. Cassandra's armor was heavier than she'd seen it seen it, heavier plates for riskier travel, she supposed.

"Good morning, Herald," Cassandra greeted as she appeared, "We should get moving. If we do not reach the foot of the mountains by sundown, we will face a harsh night."

Enya glanced around, "What about Varric."

"Our Dwarven friends seems not to have a keen interest in animals of the equine variety," Solas commented with a faint smile, "It is not surprising."

Enya smiled as well at the thought of the cocky dwarf turning white at the sight of a large quadruped towering over him. She nodded and the three set off for the stables.

It was a short walk past the smithy to the pastures where the horses were kept. In her life, Enya had not really ridden horses much but she had ridden halla and the concept was very similar. Though this required extensive equipment she would not be used to. The saddle alone she felt would chafe and the reins seemed cruel, though perhaps horses were not quite so connected to their riders.

Despite her lack of experience with horses, she could tell very quickly that the herd possess by the inquisition at this instant was very poorly. They were certainly usable but their coats were dull, eyes slightly sunken and they had all passed their prime years. All the same, the four horses, well, three horses and one that was questionably a pony, tied to the fence lifted their heads as they approached.

"Got them all ready for you Lady Cassandra, Herald," an elf barely out of his teens bowed lowly to them and untied the reins from the fence, handing them to their riders, "I thought there were to be four?" he asked.

"Hold on, hold on," Varric's gruff voice answered.

All three turned to look at him. He clutched what appeared to be a wad of cloth covering a bottle of something. Cassandra made a noise filled with disgust and mounted her horse. Enya patted the neck of hers as Varric reached them and slipped the poorly hidden bottle into his pack. Her eyes caught on Solas as he lead his own mount a bit further away and, though his face was impassive as ever, she saw mirth dancing in his eyes. Clearly, though he was accustomed to the solitude of a life lived mostly in the Fade, he did not find all social interaction abrasive. Enya examined the saddle on her horse and then deftly unfastened the cinch. She lifted it free, despite the protests of the stable boy, and set it on the fence. She swung easily up onto her steed and moved away from the fence. Varric stared at her as though he thought she'd lost her mind, but said nothing. Her horse was responsive enough, she noted and she was not disappointed by his stout movements. He would suit their purpose just fine if appearances were not noticed.

Mounted and settled the party moved out from the encampment into the valley toward the village of Haven and then on past, heading into the frozen wilderness of the peaks in the Frostbacks. It was cold and the wind was strong, but their old steeds pushed through it as though it was all they knew how to do. Enya had thought that perhaps the steepness of the valley they traversed would cut the wind but instead, it intensified it, spinning it into a vortex of swirling, icy snow that bit like arrows into the skin of her face. She lowered her eyes as they descended, remembering that it was not winter at the bottom of these peaks but early autumn.

At midday, the small party was forced to stop as the spinning snow reduced visibility to almost nothing. Enya dropped from her horse into nearly a meter of snow and fought her way through it toward what she remembered was the mountain. Her eyes tried to deceive her several times but eventually she found a place where she could suitable huddle out of the wind. Cassandra soon joined her, then Varric and finally Solas. The horses created a makeshift barrier on the upper end of the pass, drawing at least some of the snow away from their riders.

Cassandra shifted herself around slightly, on hand still on the reins of her horse. She reached into the pack she'd been carrying and pull out several pieces of dried, salted meats. Enya glanced at them for the slightest moment, and she realized just how hungry she was.

"Here," Cassandra held out the meet to the whole group, "We should all eat. I cannot tell how far we've come or how far we have yet to go."

They each took a portion from her and ate in silence. By the time they had finished, the snowstorm had cleared along with the intense wind and their path stretched out ahead of them, a serpentine figure laid across the steep slopes of the mountain. They brushed the snow from their saddles and horses before setting off down the valley again.

The sun peaked out from the clouds and shown on the snowcapped peaks high above them as they dropped below the snow line of the mountains. Rocky expanses of screen slopes and sparse vegetation stretched before them, plunging into a line of grasses and eventually trees. Enya had experienced a similar transition of landscapes as she had made her way to the Conclave not a fortnight prior. Though that time she had been nearly entirely on her own with the exception of a few travelers along the road. She'd gone unnoticed by them, slipping into the underbrush, her Dalish inducing a sense of paranoia.

The sun dipped below the trees as they reached the bottom. The journey had been exhausting for the whole party and when they finally dismounted in the forest, it was with much relief. Even Cassandra, though Enya noted she seemed to be the most comfortable in a saddle, seemed to feel the long day's journey. Enya set her pack down and began to search for the driest spot of ground to place their campfire. She marked it with a knife from her pack, stabbing it hilt deep into the earth.

"We should put our fire here," she recommended.

Solas nodded in agreement, "I will retrieve some wood for our fire tonight."

Cassandra nodded to him and then riffled through her pack as though searching for something specific. She drew from it a small map. Enya finished petting the face of her mount, thanking him for bearing her this far and then moved to sit next to her. The lines on the map were faint and faded but they showed paths through these very woods. They had not travelled deep into the forest, just far enough that the cold wind that would descend the side of the mountain would not freeze them to their bones yet again.

"I think…" Cassandra's finger traced the line of their descent through the valley, "We should be-"

Enya leaned forward and glanced at the curve of the trees around them, noting the angle of their growth in relation to the angle of the mountains. She reached forward and pointed.

"We are here," She answered, "Trees grow away from the wind because, as saplings, they are pushed by it. We are not so deep in the forest that they would not have felt the wind that comes of of the mountains," the elf explained, "The angle of this mountain matches with the curvature of these trees, therefore we must be closer to the edge of this other peak over here, else we would see the trees bent out straight away from the mountains."

"How can you know this?" Cassandra asked her as Enya stood again. The Seeker's thumb moved to mark the place on the map where she had indicated.

Solas had returned while they had been examining the map, though his presence ad gone unnoticed. Now he spoke up.

"Your Herald is Dalish, Seeker," He answered, "Once there was a time when they inhabited the Dales, but no more."

Enya nodded toward the other elf as he carefully stacked the wood of the fire, "Solas is right. My people are nomadic. In the aravels, we move from place to place around the land and we must always know our way back to camp," she paused, "I was a hunter, a tracker. I had to know how to find my companions. I learned to find my way back to them and to the aravels with the only the plants and rocks around me for aid."

Varric commented, "I guess you'd be useful even without that mark on your hand."

Enya nodded absently. Solas stood from the fire for a moment and Cassandra reached into her pack for the flint she had brought with her.

"There is no need for your search, Seeker," Solas called.

The elven warrior turned toward him as he stepped back and held a hand out, flicking it toward the fire. A shower of sparks fell onto the logs in what Enya thought might be the most controlled display of magic she'd ever witnessed. He stepped away from the fire, moving toward the horses with an air of ease. Cassandra's hand was still in her pack but as she rose, Enya caught a distinctly unnerved expression on her face. The woman's eyes remained fixed on the other elf for several moments before she simply moved to the now well burning fire.

The party gathered around the heated logs and again passed the cured meats Cassandra had brought with her around along with some bread and a small portion of cheese. Varric offered up his bottle of Orzammar's Best. Best what, Enya couldn't have said for after one whiff of the liquid she passed it on to Solas, afraid its contents might simply burn through her stomach instead of achieving their intended purpose. Her eyes widened as the other elf took a sip from the bottle and then nodded to Varric. Cassandra also indulged Varric though she did not seem the remotest bit interested in the contents of the bottle after her first small swallow. It left her with a distinctly sour expression on her face.

After a few swigs of the liquid, Varric's tongue had loosened and the storyteller that remained dormant inside him in the public eye began to peak out.

"I met this dwarf called Oghren once," He declared, "He could drink three of these bottle before he fell over. Never seen anyone drink so much. Anyway, this fellow used to be married to a Paragon, a woman by the name of Branka. From the sound of it, I would say she went mad, or got obsessed with finding and Artifact called the 'Anvil of the Void.' So she ran off, taking their whole house and left only him. And somehow he couldn't get over her; she'd broken his heart." Varric took another swig of his brew and offered it to Cassandra.

She held up a hand to him, "I'm afraid that at least one of us who knows the way ought to have a clear head in the morning.

"Seeker, you're missing all the fun," He responded and then took another drink offering it to Solas.

"I have had enough, Varric," Solas responded, "Let us hear the rest of your story."

Cassandra shifted into a more attentive position though she seemed to be trying very hard not to appear interested. Enya smiled to herself, arms wrapped around her knees as she drew her body closer to stay warm. Though it was nowhere near as cold as it had been in Haven, the temperature had still fallen to an uncomfortably cold level. She winced as her hand twinged with pain.

"Well Oghren turns into even more of a drunk than he was before, mourning the loss of his love with an endless stream of the finest ales until finally he kills someone in a First-blood match. He was thrown from his house, and stripped of his weapons. Still he argues that Branka must still be alive in the Deep Roads even after months have passed. Now mind you, Branka was Orzammar's only Paragon at this time. She was one of the bravest warriors they had ever seen, almost as brave as Caridan himself. Oghren was certain she could have survived the endless darkspawn even his the rest of his house and her's had not. Somehow in the middle of all of this he got remarried and had a young'un.' Not really sure how or when that happened, cause he was very clear on the details on account of the drinkin' and the fact that the next part of his story was when he met with the Hero of Ferelden."

"You must be joking!" Cassandra exclaimed, betraying her intrest in his story, "First a noble is fallen from favor because his wife, the Paragon left him for some ancient artifact and now you're trying to say that he also ran with the hero of Ferelden."

"See? This is why I never used this in a story. It's too unbelievable to have been someone's life. The reader would never buy it," Varric responded, "But alas, Oghren believed it to be true."

"As many drunk men do when they tell their tales," Cassandra rebuffed.

She rose from her spot by the fire and moved to spread out her bedroll. Enya watched this and then stared to a rather withered Varric, the wind clearly taken out of his sails. She patted him on the shoulder as she rose from her spot. The blonde dwarf looked up at her.

"Come, Varric. It is time to sleep," She explained and then moved to her own bedroll with a grace that only an elf could master.

Enya looked around as she began to remove her armor piece by piece. It was simple to put on and take off, simply a belt of scale maille, but it was still heavy and she sighed with relief as she finally lowered it to the ground next to her bedroll. Her shoulders ached and she noticed the throbbing of her hand more intensely than she had since her attempt to seal the Breach. The elf rubbed it with her thumb. A knarled scar arched across it now, pink as a newborn's flesh and still very delicate. Brushing her long hair into a braid with her fingers, she readied to settle into her bed without further thought.

"It is your exhaustion," Solas' voice cut across her slightly pained brain, "Your mark hurts more because your mind and body are weary from your day of travel."

Enya looked up at him. Varric snored in the bed roll a little ways away from her. She was not surprised. With as much of the spirits he had drunk, she was a little surprised it had taken him so long to finally sleep. Cassandra's shoulder rose and fell steadily and she took a moment to question how the woman could possible sleep in her armor. Aside from herself, it was only Solas who remained awake. He walked from his earlier position to settle between her and the fire.

"Let me see," he implored, holding out his hand.

Enya tentatively placed her hand on top of his, and he turned it upright. He used a tendril of magic to probe the mark; she watched as it glowed faintly blue-white for a moment, before drawing it away at a sharp stab of pain. She curled her hand in on itself.

"I am deeply sorry. The magic, the power that created your mark is sensitive to my own," Solas held out his hand again, "I fear I cannot lessen the pain," he informed solemnly and then asked, "It is tolerable?"

The elf stared down at her hand for a moment, holding it out for him again. The mage examined traced the line of scaring across her palm. Small burst of green energy leaked from the healed wound as he did so. Enya closed her hand for a moment and returned it to her lap.

"Yes," she replied shortly, "At least more so than it was when I first acquired it, but less so than when I first woke after the Breach was closed." She paused, her emerald eyes drifting to the fire, "or after I close a rift."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spark of curiosity fill Solas' posture, flooding his grey eyes with intent.

"That is of interest?" she asked softly, her hand still closed tightly against her body, her eyes fixed elsewhere.

Solas replied, "Everything is of interest, Dahlen, least of all your mark." He paused and rose from his seat, pacing slightly, "It could be that your mark senses the nature of the Veil, the state of it. That pain you feel, is very likely the result of the Veil's wounded nature."

Enya looked up at him. The elven apostate was turned away from her now, staring off into the blackness of the forest as though it were daylight. She hesitated and then moved to stand at his shoulder, "You mean that as I close more of the rifts, my hand will hurt less"

"Tis merely a supposition," Solas answered thoughtfully, "It is far more likely that, as the Breach was the conception of your mark, your pain is tied to its existence. The other rifts might give you temporary relief, but they will not satisfy you for long. No, I believe that your pain will return until the Breach is closed."

She sighed and flexed her hand again, "I have lived with it thusfar, I might live with it for as long as necessary."

"As we all must bear our trials," The mage stepped back a few steps and then made his way around behind her toward his bedroll, "To sleep is to dream, Dahlen. Find solace in your dreams."

Enya remained silent, pondering upon his parting words. The fire burned warm against her skin and she poked the coals that rested at its base with the end of a stick before placing that too in the fire. Sparks flew into the air. When at last the silence of the forest overwhelmed her mental ramblings, she made her way to her own bedroll and settled under the rough wool blanket. The elf shut her eyes and let her mind wander until the morning.


	9. Whispers in the Dark

a/n- I hope this isn't too long between updates. I have a little bit more schoolwork than I did to begin with and so I'm spending a lot of time on that and not as much on this, as is necessary. I want to thank Tharosis2422 for being my first reviewer. Alright, well I meant this chapter to get back to the canon story, but I go a little long winded in the middle with the characters and I liked it, so I kept going. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this next installment.

Whispers In the Dark

The next morning dawned clear and bright, light filtering through the trees hindered only by their branches. Enya laid on her back for a moment and gazed up at the intense green of the leaves around her. If not for the throbbing of her hand, it was nearly possible for her to pretend she was back with Clan Lavellan, in the Free Marches, wandering from forest to plain, her only concern being sure she had not alerted potential prey. She sighed and closed her eyes again, letting the sun's rays bath her face with warmth.

The elf eventually rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. She neatly rolled up her bed roll with the practice of a seasoned traveler and tied it to her pack. Enya moved over to the horses happy to see that they still stood in the general vicinity of where they had been left. Most Dalish thought horses unintelligent creatures bred to do only Shemlan bidding. Now she looked a them, however, she was not sure they were that. While they seemed complacent enough, she noted that horses were quite a bit larger than halla, thus, if they did not want to be ridden, they could simply throw a rider off or run away completely, yet they didn't. The same could be said for Halla, despite their smaller size.

Enya smoothed a hand over her mount's mane for a moment whispering quietly to him in what little she knew of ancient elven. Her keeper had once said that the tongue called to the spirits of the animals, teaching them to trust. It was how halla masters tamed and care for their flock. The fur of the horse's neck twitched under her fingers and he lifted his head from grazing to stare at her. He blinked a large brown eye and went back to grazing as a decisive sniff.

The elf returned to the fire just in time to see Cassandra tossing dirt onto the embers, which refused to go out. Despite the mound the Seeker had built upon them, they still burned, filling the air with the acrid scent of heated earth. The woman let out a low growl as yet another pile of dirt yielded no change. Varric gave a soft chuckle as he threw his pack over his shoulder.

"Solas!" Cassandra rounded on the mage, who had thus far been busy tightening the wraps he wore around his feet and calves, "Is there something about this fire that should cause it to continually burn?"

Solas raised his head to look at the pile of dirt and smoldering embers and rose. The elf moved over to it and deliberately placed a hand over it. He closed the hand and the embers became lifeless coals.

"My apologies, Seeker," Solas turned to Cassandra, "I did not wish and errant wind to quell the flames."

Cassandra turned a hard gaze on him, "While I appreciate the thought, you should take more care with your magic." She spun on her heal and gathered her things from the ground by the fire, "Not everyone is as accepting of apostates as the Inquisition."

Solas nodded in acquiescence and moved off to the horses. His face was impassive and accepting, despite the warning he'd just received.

"Is it so wrong for him to use his magic for our aid when we are out here in the wilds where none shall see?" Enya spoke up.

Cassandra strode toward her and stopped, laying a hand on Enya's shoulder, "I only say it to caution him. If I am bothered by his magic, then how must others less used to apostates react? Especially now that every mage is an apostate."

The elf looked up at her and then nodded. Among the Dalish, magic, natural magic was so present, it still seemed strange for people to fear it. Cassandra moved away tying her bedroll behind her saddle and mounting her horse. Enya gave Varric a leg up onto his smaller steed and watch him wince as he settled into the saddle. She felt badly for the dwarf being forced to ride such long distances. The elf approached her mount and grasped a handful of mane in her left hand. She pulled herself up swiftly and gracefully onto her horse's saddleless back.

The party set off through the forest along the path she had help Cassandra plot the night before. It was a short ride through the dense trees and they reached the Forest's edge by midday. The rolling foothills dotted with farmland and villages between stands of tamed woodland spread out before them. Enya, just behind Cassandra, stared out at the land they still had to cover and sighed. To the eyes of a Dalish elf, the long distance they had yet to go seemed like hours spent in peace.

They stopped for noon meal and dined again on the salted meats. Even Varric's heart didn't seem to be in it. After a day of the same food for each meal and yet another day ahead of them, it seemed likely that they would very quickly get tired of this food. Each counted themselves lucky that this was only a short trip and that soon they would be reaching the Hinterlands, where for certain, they could acquire fresh food.

The night was starting to fall again and they plunged into a wood to take shelter. Varric supplied his flint for the fire and soon flames rose from the pile of branches that had gone unused the night before. Enya threw down her bedroll quickly and settled onto it, watching as flames leaped from the sparks Varric had struck onto the twigs. She reached out and added a log as they burned bright enough to show their heat. It caught quickly.

Cassandra settled by the fire, holding her breastplate clasped in her hands. The Inquisition's symbol was emblazoned on it in pure white paint that had been marred by her fighting and the days and nights of travel. Enya glanced at it long and hard and though she somewhat understood what it meant, she couldn't fully grasp its significance.

"Do you know what it means?" Cassandra asked kindly.

Enya glanced up at her, surprised her gaze had been noticed. She shook her head.

"As it is the symbol of the Inquisition, so was it the heraldry of the Seekers of Truth," she explained, "The all-seeing eyes is surrounded by the sunrays of the Chantry to exhibit the Maker's omnipotence and to commend our actions as part of his will," The warrior pressed her hand to the white paint, "In the Inquisition we extend the bottom-most ray to show that we are different that the Inquisition of old that lead to the formation of the Seekers of Truth. Without this ray, we could be seen as no different. It represents the influence we have and the divide we hope to close."

"It seems like this was not just on a whim that you began this Inquisition," Enya commented, awed by the thought that had gone into the symbol.

"No," Cassandra replied as she pulled a bone-white powder from her pack followed by an oil of some sort. She mixed these together and took a course brush from her pack and began brushing on the mixture, "Even if the Conclave had not exploded as it did, the Divine planned to rebuild the Inquisition. That is why we had the writ at hand when we declared sovereignty. With the chaos caused by the Mage's Rebellion, the Most Holy felt that it was necessary to reinstate the Inquisition of Old to restore order to Thedas. As the Seekers, we would report only to her and give the people of Thedas an example to follow in the name of the Maker and his holy bride Andraste," Cassandra looked up from her careful work, "You are believed to be Andraste's chosen voice is among the people of this world. But I have never truly asked how you felt about that. You have not openly denied these claims when people have addressed you as such. Does that me that you…believe you _are _chosen, that you believe in the Maker and his plan for us?"

Enya considered for a moment what she truly did believe. It left a sour taste in her mouth to say that she believed herself to be Andraste's Herald when to her Andraste was but a powerful woman who helped to free the elves from Tevinter enslavement. She was not prophet to her elven mind.

"I am Dalish," she responded slowly, yet surely, "We believe in the elven gods." She reached up and touched the pendants around her neck that she typically kept under her clothes so as not to lose them and pulled one out, "Andruil goddess of the hunt. All hunters of my tribe wear this, for protection and with the hope that she might bring us a worthy kill."

Cassandra nodded, a troubled look in her eyes, "And there is no room in your gods for one more?" the warrior shook her head, "I am sorry, herald. What I ask of you is not a proper request. You could easily ask me to accept your gods as my own and it would leave the same feeling of falseness in me to try," she turned back to her breastplate, finishing the curve of the all-seeing eye's pupil, "I must admit, I am not used to meeting someone without the Maker in their hearts. Certainly those who have lost hope in him, but rarely one who never believed."

Enya turned back to the fire and stared into its depths, her fingers slowly rubbing the figure of Andruil absently, "I understand. It would be much the same as myself encountering a city elf who had accepted the beliefs of the Sh-" she stopped herself from finishing the word and corrected, "the humans that surround them."

Cassandra's silence was long and only the crackling of the fire and the tenor of Varric's off-pitch humming could be heard. Enya thought long and hard about the term she'd almost used to describe her companion's race. Shemlan. In theory, it meant simply that her race was short-lived in comparison to that of the ancient elves, but in practice it had come to mean so much more. If reading had taught her anything in her five and twenty years, it was that she words had more power than they initially seemed to hold. Shemlan carried accusation, expectation, a learned anticipation of mistreatment yet forthcoming. Now she was among them the accusation seemed unfounded. Of course, the people that surrounded her had certainly assumed the worst of her, but not because she was an elf, but because they had every reason to. And these humans were good people, accepting people.

Cassandra's voice interrupted her thoughts, "If the Inquisition is to act as a guide for the people of Thedas, its leaders will have to overcome the things we have been taught to think of each other if we are, indeed striving for peace."

Her words rang out in the small wood and Enya saw, through the flickering flames of the fire, Solas smile slightly at them. She smiled too for it was such an appropriate and true thing for the woman to have said. They all turned in shortly after that, the darkness of the night drawing them to their bed rolls like flies to a corpse. As she drifted off to sleep she realized that somehow, without her knowing, these people were becoming her friends.

She woke in the dark to the crunch of a stick. Enya's hand flew to the greatsword that lay next to her on the ground. She clutched the hilt tightly in her hand as her eyes sought the source of the snapping. There were several figures in the dark. The night was without a moon and in the darkness even her elven eyes could not make out how many but she guessed there were not more than five. She slipped her left hand out from under her head trying to reach Cassandra's arm without alerting these people of her awareness. She barely grazed the warrior's arm with her fingertips but it was enough. The sole human of their party jerked awake and looked up at Enya. The elf pressed a finger to her lips, hoping that her companion's start had not alerted the thieves to their awareness of them. She jerked her head toward the woods and saw that the group of people had drawn their weapons. _Mythal_ she thought.

Enya's eyes darted to their two other companions, one across the simmering coals from her and one at her feet. The silence held in the air as everything stopped. She felt time slow to a crawl as her mind flipped into an adrenaline induced overdrive. The people meant to kill them and steal their belongings, that much was clear. Bandits probably, she judged by the roughness of their footwear as they stepped into the light of the glowing embers. It was either give away their awareness by waking up her companions with a shout or wait for the people to attack and kill them then. Her hand was throbbing, possible from the pumping of blood through her veins so incredibly quickly.

The elf decided in a moment as she saw another step into the light and realized that they meant to slit their throats while they were sleeping. Enya grasped her sword tightly in her hands, nodded at Cassandra and then leapt up, bringing it out before her to slice deeply into the left shoulder of the man nearest her.

"Solas! Varric!" she cried out as she did so.

Her cry was probably unnecessary for the roar the man she'd attacked let loose was enough to alert this entire region of the Hinterlands to his presence. Solas joined the fray near instantly, emerging from his state of slumber with a blast of frost magic so cold she felt goosepimples rise on her cheek as it whizzed past her, freezing and assailant she had not noticed held an axe, clearly ready to strike. For a moment she wished very strongly that she, like Cassandra, slept in her armor. Varric was a bit slower, but his position relative to the attackers was enough to protect him for the time that he needed. He let out a bellow and loaded his crossbow with a bolt, losing it. She pulled her sword back as quickly as she could and heard a clang as Cassandra jumped full force into the frozen man with her shield. His icy form seemed to crack and the subsequent stab from the Seeker's blade ended his chances of ever unfreezing. Enya put her sword through the chest of the bandit before her and felt blood drip onto her hand. She pulled back again, narrowly avoiding one of Varric iron bolts. It pierced deeply into the eye of another bandit, and he dropped to the ground dead.

The remaining two bandits seemed to realize they were outmatched for they switched from offensive to defensive tactics. Unfortunately, Enya realized, they could not let them go for fear of their return with reinforcements. The Inquisition party did have rather valuable items with them in the way of weapons and armor, even their horses, were worth enough to live for a few months. She put out of her mind, the guilt she felt for the deaths and swung down hard toward the weapon of the larger man. He tossed her blow aside, and lunged forward with one of his own. She'd seen it coming and twist to the side. Her recovery from her missed blow before was swift, and as she spun, she folded her blade up tight so that as she turned she brought it forward, plunging it into his stomach through his leather armor. He gagged loudly and she could see the white rims of his eyes as he realized his legs no longer worked. Enya stepped back as he dropped to the ground, pulling her sword clean out of him. He slumped over, still breathing. The last bandit exploded in a spray of ice as the combine effort of Varric and Solas stopped him from bringing his hammer down on Cassandra's head. Enya dropped her sword and drew a dagger from her thigh, stepping toward her felled opponent. She knelt beside him and glanced at the blood that already soaked the ground around him. He reached up and grabbed on her wrists desperately, but the blood running from his mouth blocked his throat and he could make no sound beyond gurgling. She knew what he wanted, though and carefully slit his throat.

The elf stood and turned back to her companions. Cassandra stood, staring at the pile of bloody pink ice chunks that had been the man who'd tried to kill her. She turned to Varric and Solas slowly, nodding her thanks. Enya noticed the calmness with which each of them approached killing and pondered how anyone could become so comfortable with death.

"We cannot leave these men here. Someone is bound to find them," Cassandra spoke up as she wiped the tip of her blade off on the wool pants of one of the bandits.

Solas rose from where he had knelt by one of the bodies and turned to them, "What is more, they do not deserve to be left to rot."

"Alright, Chuckles," Varric suggested as he released the tension on his crossbow and set it back on his bed roll, "It isn't as if we were going to get back to sleep anyway."

"We'll burn them," Cassandra declared.

Enya was familiar of the human custom of burning bodies but the idea still gave her some pause.

Cassandra scouted for a more open area, "We'll need more wood and some oil."

Varric pulled a container of oil from his pack and handed it to Cassandra. Enya picked up her blanket, which was now thoroughly soaked with blood and handed it to the woman who doused it with the thick lantern fluid. The blood in the fabric ran with the oil, leaving swirling streaks of red through the wool. Solas whom had disappeared as soon as Cassandra had mentioned cremation, returned as they began to move the bodies toward a central location. He carried an armful of twigs and larger sticks back to them and began to lay them out in a rectangular area, building them up a bit. Enya helped Cassandra and Varric move the last body over and then joined him.

"You are bothered by this practice," Solas commented as she laid a branch down in the perimeter he had created.

Enya glanced up at him for a moment and met his eyes. His brow was, as usual raised in question and polite curiosity.

She looked at the pile of bodies they'd created next to the pyre they were building, "Yes," she commented quietly, "I understand it is their custom, but they turn their bodies to ash, burn away their faces, their spirits."

"They believe that they return to their Maker's side in the smoke and that the bodies of the dead too easily rise. Is this not true?" the other elf reasoned calmly, "Humans cannot understand why the Dalish bury the dead as though they are asleep."

"It is because…" Enya responded immediately but stopped as she met his grey eyes.

"As quickly as you respond to my questioning of your customs, the human's would explain theirs," Solas set down the last bit of the wood he had collected.

Both of the elves surveyed the pyre and the bodies. The small perimeter they'd built would not be sufficient to burn the bodies of the brutish bandits that had attacked them. Solas gestured to her.

"Come, we'll gather some more wood," He turned away from the camp.

Enya's eyes remained fixed on the pile of five men they had killed and she felt a chill run through her spine. Shaking her head, she turned and followed him out into the darkness, though it didn't seem truly dark to them. Cassandra and Varric remained behind and she nodded to them as they walked past. They were cleaning their weapons and packing up the camp.

Enya followed the bald-headed elf deeper into the small hilly forest. They walked only a short ways before they stopped, but it was far enough that the glowing of the embers in camp could no longer be seen. Solas turned to a tree that seemed rather ragged next to the others, its bark peeling back in places and leaves missing. Enya placed a hand on the trunk and came back with the stickiness of sap on her hands.

"This tree will not withstand another winter," Solas stated and quite suddenly the air around them was filled with blue light.

Enya watched as the elf reached up to one of the tree's lowest branches and grasped it a glowing hand, the branch froze where he grabbed it and then cracked, falling to the ground. She took several steps back, staring first to the newly fallen branch and then to him. It occurred to her that this must be why he always found firewood so quickly.

"Cassandra would not approve of this use of magic," Solas commented and there was a hint of mischief in his tone, "But I dare say that any man who should come upon us at this hour of the night would scarce think he had seen truly. Do you not agree?"

Enya smiled, "I do agree." She ran a hand over the tree again, looking up past its branches toward the stars, "You chose a tree that would soon fall," she paused, "That is very Dalish of you."

Solas stared at her with hard, inscrutable eyes for a moment and then he nodded at the branch he had broken off, "That will need cut if we are to use it."

With that, he swung into the branches of the tree and began work on its upper reaches, leaving her with a distinctly confused train of thought. He seemed almost offended by her comment. She had assumed that he was Dalish, given his knowledge of their culture, or at least had been at some point in time despite his suspicious lack of the Vallaslin, but it appeared she had been wrong.

Enya shook her head and took hold of her greatsword. It was still stained red with wet blood but she tried hard to ignore it as she brought its end down on the fallen limb. The wood, still cold, broke easily under the razor edged blade and it was soon split into pieces that were manageable in size.

The pyre stood before them, piled high with the bodies of the slain bandits. Cassandra had draped the oil soaked blankets over the bodies in the hope that they would set the corpses alight faster. She tossed struck the flint over the pyre a few times before the blankets finally caught, bursting into flames with near simultaneous light. Enya took a step back as the fire blazed over their kills and then turned away. One of the horses let out a frightened whiny at the flames and she went to comfort it, scooping her pack from the ground as she passed it.

Though it was still dark, there was a bit of lightness that she noticed creeping into the Eastern horizon so she swung onto her horse and waited for the others to do the same. When they departed, they left behind the smell of charred, roasting bodies on the wind.


	10. You Need Only Doubt

a/n- Hello again, I think I've managed to update slightly faster this time so, good for me. On that note however, I have a very busy weekend coming up so it might not be a while before I post again. Warning aside, I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.

You Need Only Doubt

The Hinterlands seemed larger than they looked on a map. They stopped a short time after the sun had risen to rest, their interrupted sleep already taking a toll on their stamina. Enya donned her armour then and she found a sense of comfort in the feeling the cold iron scales gave her as the weight settled onto her bruised shoulders. After fastening the leather strap that held her greatsword to her back, she took a few bites of the cheese and bread Cassandra had given them and they all swung back onto their horses to continue their journey.

It was midday, as the horses picked their way up the slope of a particularly rocky hill that they received a notice from Leliana's scout, a Scout Harding, detailing the location of the camp. They stopped briefly, but never dismounted as Enya helped the Seeker find the most direct route on the map. When they arrived, they left their horses with some hands travelling further into the camp. Enya's eyes widened when she spotted her contact. The dwarf turned to her and it seemed that she was equally surprised.

"The Herald of Andraste," she bowed her head, "My men, the people here, everyone has heard the tale, but I hadn't thought…I didn't realize that the woman who closed the Breach was also a Dalish," The scout stood at full height and her presence made her seem taller than her dwarven body, "You won't find a man or woman in my company that would dare talk back to you for it. That, I can promise." She held eye contact well.

Enya found herself impressed by the young dwarf's manner. Anyone in her position despite her stature would have to be strong and at this very moment, the elf couldn't think of anyone stronger.

"I thank you for that," she responded with a smile.

"You probably have already guessed, I did send you a raven this morning. I'm Inquisition Scout Harding. My men and I are at your service."

"Harding, huh?" Varric wore what Enya considered to be a flirtatious smirk as he addressed the dwarven scout, "Have you ever been to Kirkwall?"

Scout Harding bore an expression of surprise as she turned to him, "I can't say that I have."

Varric's voice boiled with a joking tone as he said, "Well you'd be Harding in high…No, nevermind."

Scout Harding looked unimpressed and Cassandra scoffed, shaking her head. Enya stepped in, hoping to avoid any further interactions.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Scout Harding," She greeted pleasantly, "Leliana said that her contacts here would be able to help us find a chantry woman by the name of Mother Giselle?"

Harding nodded and turned, stepping away from them for a moment, "We have located her to be somewhere around the Crossroads. The only problem is that fighting between the mages of Templars has reached critically dangerous levels. They no longer seem to care for civilian casualty and seem to be focused solely on destroying their opponents. The Templars blame the mages for what happened at the Chantry and the Mages are offended that the Templars would accuse them." She drew in a breath, "The Templars were ordered to withdraw after what happened at the Conclave but most ignored the order. We've sent Inquisition forces into the area but our numbers, no matter how skilled, are still too low."

Cassandra stepped forward, "Send a raven to Commander Cullen asking for reinforcements. We cannot afford to lose the Hinterlands."

"We have, My Lady, but it will be several days before they arrive. We will just have to hold on a while longer. The refugees here need us." Scout Harding responded and then added, "Mother Giselle has been healing the wounded Inquisition soldiers down at the cross roads as well as any mages, Templars and civilians that are injured."

"A noble purpose," Solas cut in, "To dance between all sides in battle is a feat I would not have expected from a representative of the Chantry."

"She has asked to speak with the Herald," Cassandra commented acidly, "Clearly, her beliefs are of the Maker and not of the politics of her position."

"It was merely and observation of something unexpected, Seeker. I meant no offense. It is through the unexpected experiences that we learn what to expect."

Cassandra let out a growl at this. Enya licked her lips and glanced back at her companions with narrowed eyes. They silenced completely. When she turned back, Harding was staring at her curiously.

"If you run across any of my men down in the valley, please don't hesitate to help them. We weren't really hear for this. Lady Josephine sent use here to collect horses for the Inquisition. I grew up here, and Master Dennet's herd is one of the best in Ferelden. I remember watching them run through the fields bearing riders, but the fighting is so bad we can't get through to him. He's out in the Redcliff farms and we don't even know whether…well with the Rifts popping up everywhere and the fighting here, and bandits…He might not even still be alive."

Harding looked nearly heartbroken and Enya wondered if she had known Dennet personally while she had been growing up.

"Anyway, try to find him if you can. We truly do need better horses if we hope to make a difference in Thedas," Scout Harding paused, "You should move quickly. Corporal Vael and his men are holding the Crossroads as well as they can but the can only do so much."

"We will make every effort," Enya nodded to the dwarf woman, "Thank you, for your help."

"It is the least I can do for the Andraste's Herald," The dwarf bowed and the hurried off to talk to some of the soldiers that had just returned.

Enya turned back to her companions and the group set off down the road upon which the soldiers had just returned. They were on foot this time as it was less conspicuous and they were not going far. A small round house sat about halfway down amidst the rocky walls but they ignored it and kept going for they could hear fighting on the road ahead. The muted clangs of sword on amour and sword on sword, the snapping and crackling of magical energy hurtling through the air echoed from the stone walls of the road that surrounded them.

When they emerged from the rock crevice it was to a scene of utter chaos that their eyes were forced to adjust. Buildings stood, the charred skeletons of their former uses, bodies were strewn across the ground along with piles of ashes or pools of pinkish water that had once been a frozen person. Enya nearly gagged on the stench of it all. It was clear by the rotting odor that the fighting had been going on since the explosion of the Conclave and it showed little signs of letting up.

Cassandra broke into a run and charged past her, surprising the elf. The warrior came to a halt at the side of an Inquisition soldier whose leather armor was splashed with blood on his shield arm. Enya a fireball hurtled past her face and struck the Templar flat in the chest of his armor. It melted the red blade symbol and she heard him holler. She darted forward as well, attacking another with a rending blow to his plate armor. It was so strong and the weight of her sword so great that she knocked him flat on the ground. Her scale maille deflected his return blow and she found herself separating his head from his body as he struggled to his feet.

The spray of blood that hit her face broker her concentration for but a moment and yet it was a critical one. The ground in front of her exploded with ice and found herself on her back, surrounded by the glyphs of a mage. Her mind flitted to Solas, he used ice far more often than other magic to fight, but he was quite a way off, throwing blasts of cold at a Templar with a shield. A person advanced toward her, staff blade raised but someone intervened. She heard the click of a blt being fired from a crossbow and shook her frozen head to clear her eyes. The mage had been pinned to the stone wall of a garden and Varric held out a hand to her.

"Lucky I was there to save you, Kid," He commented gruffly.

She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. Her skin was freezing to the touch and she thought fervently that she would very much like to avoid encountering ice mages again. The elf nodded to the dwarf and then lunged around him, sinking her blade deep into the stomach of an attacker neither had noticed.

"Now we're even," she commented, leaving him as she noticed that the fight seemed to have dwindled where she stood.

Enya's blade whipped around before her and though she was loath to admit it, the song of the iron rushing through the air was almost comforting, despite the death that followed. The party helped the Inquisition's soldiers, weary from hours of intermittent fighting to defeat the immediate danger. The young men and women looked gratefully upon them before they left, hurrying back toward the camp. The elven warrior pushed on ahead toward the village at the Crossroads. It became instantly apparent that it had seen better days. Some scouts were pounding in a sign that cleary denoted the area to be under the protection of the Inquisition. She nodded to them as she passed, loose strands of her black hair falling into her face.

As she brushed them away, she remembered the blood that had splashed across her visage as her fingers brushed the crusted surface of it drying on her cheeks. She fought the urge to be sick as she remembered the stump of the man's neck spurting crimson fluid from its arteries. The elf paused and stepped over to the small pool of water next to the road and took off her gloves.

"We are meeting with a woman who is clearly on an errand of mercy," Enya explained as she knelt by the pool, "Let us not treat with her with the blood of our enemies on us."

Cassandra joined her at the pool as did Varric. Enya rubbed hard at the caked blood on her cheeks and hair, trying to get every bit off. When her reflection in the water no longer revealed missed splashes of blood, she rose and wiped her face with her hand to get the excess water from it. The group walked together along the road until they came to the small bridge at the entrance to the village. Two armed Inquistion soldiers stood, guarding, but as they saw her, they brought their feet together and clasped their right fist over their hearts, stepping back to let the party pass.

Enya led them through, between the soldiers and then turned to them, returning their gesture. Cassandra followed suit, giving the Inquisition's men the respect they deserved. The party ascended the stone steps up to the houses and buildings of the tiny town. From there it was easy to pick out Mother Giselle among the wounded and broken soldiers. Her red and gold Chantry habit stood out against the stark earth tones of the village and the cool grey of the stone. Beside her stood a mage who appeared calm. Enya found herself surprised to see a Chantry representative working with him so peacefully after the uprising but it seemed Mother Giselle was far more open-minded that many of her peers.

The soldier appeared to be a fallen Inquisition fighter, but the look of his armor and Enya was dismayed as she heard him proclaim rather loudly that he did not wish for the mage to treat his wounds. She had hoped the men of the Inquisition were beyond such prejudice, but she supposed, as she noticed the bleeding burn on his leg that he had been given good reason to be wary.

"Their magic has been turned to a better better cause. Surely, you can see that their intention is no more evil than your own," Mother Giselle's voice was soothing yet filled with a kind of caring reproach.

Whether it was from the pain or from her words, the man let out a groan and lay himself flat on the cot. As the Mother rose, the mage went to work on the wound.

"Mother Giselle?" Enya called when she was within earshot of the woman.

The Revered Mother turned and looked at her kindly but with questions in her eyes, "I am she." She paused and considered her addresser for a moment before continuing kindly, "And you, the Dalish elf, are the chosen of Andraste, for the Maker works in mysterious ways."

Enya furrowed her brow in response and lifted her chin. She did not think what the woman had said was an insult but nevertheless she responded, "I am Dalish yes, but I am the woman with which you asked to speak."

Mother Giselle nodded, "I did not mean your heritage as a mark against you in the eyes of humanity, though to many it would be." She smiled softly, "I merely meant that the Maker has chosen you, of all the fine people of Thedas, to be his bride's Herald. He does this to give mankind a chance to see the Dalish as more than a relic of memories they wish to forget. And to remind us that Andraste once fought alongside the enslaved Elvhen as comrades a millennia past."

Enya bowed her head in response. This woman's faith was overwhelming, and, in a way, incredibly beautiful. Her words held such certainty and the elf felt herself wishing that she too could have such belief in the choices of her Gods, but they were locked away, imprisoned by one of their own.

"You believe the tales then?" she asked the Revered Mother.

"I do," Mother Giselle replied, "You do not?"

"I…am not certain," Enya admitted. Her words held power despite her admission of unknowing.

"You must, Herald, for it is your belief in yourself that gives the people of Thedas a reason to hope," The Chantry mother pressed the palms of her hands together and gazed at her sternly, "We seldom have the opportunity to have a fate as great as yours."

Enya lowered her eyes in indecision, "I did not choose this path."

"Nor do many who face such adversity. They simply have fate thrust upon them," Mother Giselle stepped toward her, "But I did not ask you to come so that I might debate the merits and philosophies of your story."

"Why did you ask me here?" The elf replied, "You put yourself at great risk, speaking to me, now that the Chantry has denounced me and what I stand for. You are consorting with a known heretic."

"That matters not," The Revered Mother tiled her clothed head to the right, "There are some who truly believe you to be the cause of what happened at the Conclave, believe you are responsible for the death of our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, but there are also many who simply oppose you because they believe it will increase their chances of becoming the next Divine. Their use of this great loss for their own gains is…reprehensible." She paused, "but fear makes men and women desperate, and so they will cling to what seems to be the simplest explanation. It is easy for these people to gain favor by disparaging or blaming you, but they cannot get through to all who are frightened."

"What happened at the Conclave was a great tragedy," Enya comment, clenching a fist as she stared off into the forest on the other side of the crossroad, her eyes hardened, "It should not be made fodder for political gain."

"Indeed, but alas, you must use it as they have to gain a foothold with the people of Thedas," Mother Giselle explained softly, "You are the Herald of Andraste. Though many have chosen to see you as a threat rather than a savior, there are still more who have yet to survive. You accomplishments can be bolstered with the right leverage. Like myself, not everyone at the Chantry believe you to be at fault, but their voices are not heard because they know not why they believe your innocence," She paused, her ochre eyes searching Enya's face, "They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe in."

"You want me to appeal to them?" Enya replied, looking at her sharply.

"You have skill and power that you do not realize when it comes to the ways of words," Mother Giselle responded, "I would not suggest that you do so did I not think you were capable."

"I have been declared a heretic, surely they would not listen to me," The elf responded.

"You merely must make them doubt the word they have heard. Often a firsthand account will give others pause, for the words they have heard have come from many mouths while yours issues from one. You must break their unified voice. It is the source of their power. Take that away and you will be heard."

Enya looked down for a moment, mulling over the Revered Mother's words. They held much wisdom, though it seemed also some vain hope. What she asked seemed too simple, but then again, perhaps simplicity is what she needed in a plan. The world had become too complex since the explosion at the Conclave. Perhaps just talking would suffice.

"Thank you, Mother Giselle, for your council," she lifted her eyes from the ground to meet the Chantry Mother's, "You are very kind to offer us aid."

"I do not know whether you've been touch by Fate or sent with the Maker's grace to help us, but I have Hope," she drew a breath and stared back at the elf, "Hope is the weapon with which you will find allies, for with you as their guide they might rally. No other person has the power to build such a force of hope as you." She paused and set her shoulders, "You Sister Leliana was once a most trusted advisor in the Chantry. She was well known and well loved. I will go to Haven, Herald and speak with her. We will do what we can to arrange a meeting between yourself and those whose minds are open enough to hear your side of the story."

"Dareth Shiral, Mother Giselle," Enya called as the woman walked away.


	11. The Blessing of Falon

a/n- Oh look, I've given you another chapter that doesn't actually exist in the game (for the most part). While I really am enjoying the time it takes to write these chapters, I'm starting to feel as though I'm almost giving you too much extended canon. But you can let me know that for yourself right? I mean, you could review if you liked. I would be ecstatic if you did.

The Blessing of Falon'din

She stood at the top of the village for a long time, the smell of the wounded thickening the air, but her mind was leagues away. The elf closed her eyes for a moment and wondered, not for the first time, how she had woven herself into time as she had simply by taking an interest in one particular meeting.

Cassandra approached her, a hand on her sword.

"What is it that she wanted?" she queried.

"She wished to offer us counsel and aid," Enya replied, staring after the retreating figure, "She is making for Haven to tell Leliana what she can about the grand clerics in Val Royuex."

Cassandra's eyebrows raised, "A daring move for one in her position."

She too turned her eyes to Mother Giselle who now stood near the entrance of the village, speaking with the Inquisition guards.

"If she is to travel back the way we came, it would be wise to assign her protection," Solas recommended.

He came to stand beside Enya, leaning against his staff as he joined them in looking over the small roadside town.

"We could escort her to the camp," Enya suggested, "from there we would need a full guard to return her to Haven safely."

"Why not just take her back ourselves," Varric asked, "I never leave to another a task I could complete just as well."

Cassandra shook her head, "We were not here simply for the Revered Mother. We have other business. Horsemaster Dennet must be found, the Templars and Mages must be stopped and there are refugees here that need shelter, warmth, wounded fighters."

"What Cassandra means," Enya interrupted, "Is that our presence here is important and to simply leave, return to Haven, after such a short time is not what is needed of us," she paused and took a breath, looking between each of her companions, "If people are to believe in the Inquisition, we must give them a reason for that belief."

Varric bowed his head, "Alright, you've made your point. Let's go make sure that the woman won't be injured on her way back to the camp."

Initially, Mother Giselle protested their insistence in helping her, but her rebuttals dwindled as another group of soldiers arrived in the village from up the Southern slopes, where the camp was located. The distance to camp was short, no more than a mile, but it felt like a league to the party of five. Their eyes never left the undergrowth, nor the trunks of trees nor the branches that hung over their heads. Every snap of a twig could have been the alert for an attack. Some of the Revered Mother's protests had been valid. They were a group of very high targets as leaders in the Inquisition's forces. If even one of them fell, it would be to the detriment of their entire venture. F

Fate however, seemed to smile upon them, and they reached the Inquisition encampment without incident. Enya sat down on a rock while Cassandra and Mother Giselle approached some of the soldiers. Her emerald eyes gazed out over the valley, it was green and auburn filled with autumn leaves the glistened in the light of a low evening sun. By the time they returned to the village, she realized, it would be nightfall and they would have to make camp with the Inquisition's men at the crossroads. Smoke rose from the West and on the far horizon, the Frostbacks, where their journey had begun, painted the sky with a jagged white line. Two and a half days ride, they'd come, and she imagined they would retrace that journey in short order, as soon as they managed to settle the Hinterlands and return some order to the people there.

"Odd to think that people suffer 'neath those trees."

Enya jumped at the sound of Solas' voice. He stood next to her, leaning on his staff so closely his cheek rested on its grip. His grey eyes were focused on the distant horizon as well, almost as though he too was considering their journey.

"Yes. I could scarce imagine it if it were that I did not already know," She replied.

"Spirits here cry out for the Veil has worn thin," Solas replied, "So much pain and so much death, even if I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would know."

Enya's eyebrows furrowed and she tore her eyes away from the view before her to look up at him, "You can hear them now?"

He nodded solemnly, "With so much fighting, they press against the Veil, collecting the imprint such a battle is making on the land." He turned to meet her gaze, "The rifts are where the Veil has torn but in the area around them, the veil is weak, stretched too tight. Even without entering the Fade, I can hear them."

She gazed down at her knees. Her hand twinged and she reflexively curled it into a tight fist to hide the tiny burst of emerald light from it. It seemed that every time she thought of the Fade, her mark would respond as such. The elf drew in a deep breath and turned her attention back to the valley.

"You handled yourself quite impressively today," Solas commented, perhaps realizing his previous topic had brought her concern, or simply deciding that it, like the Veil, had born thin.

Enya glanced up at him, "You found me impressive?"

He chuckled slightly, "You lead us, da'len, whether you realized it or not." He paused, "and I find myself inclined to think that you did not."

"I only did what was necessary, what was asked of me," Enya rebuffed and then after further consideration she added, "I am grateful for your recognition, Solas. I don't mean to sound otherwise."

The other elf nodded, "You needn't explain the intentions of your words to me, da'len. I believe I know you well enough to look between them."

Enya opened her mouth to ask how he felt he knew her well enough to divine meaning from her misspoken sentences but Cassandra approached and drew their attention.

"There is a group of five scouts that will escort Mother Giselle back to Haven," she explained, "They are taking our horses to travel more quickly so we have all the more reason to hope for Master Dennet's aid."

Enya rose from where she sat and squared her shoulders, "Then we should make to camp at the crossroads tonight. There is no sense in venturing further into the wilderness and needlessly risk our lives."

"Mother Giselle has offered her home here to us for as long as we remain and can use it. She does not wish to return after her message is delivered to Leliana," Cassandra offered.

Enya nodded, "Then we shall take rest in her home tonight."

Mother Giselle's home smelled of the wounded and of the sick. The odor of infection filled the air with the pungent scent of decay, but as a gentle rain began to fall beyond the windows, the party was grateful for the roof over their heads. Cassandra ran a whetstone over her blade and the repetitive singing of the metal seemd to lull the air. Solas had joined the mages in the other part of the house and Enya had paused as she unbuckled her sword from across her torso the carful and intricate magic he performed as he help in the healing. Varric sat on the floor, oiling the wood of Bianca with a special grease he'd purchased from the merchant that sold objects outside the town. He hummed off pitch under his breath a song that sounded on just slightly familiar to Enya. There had been a time when they briefly met with clan Sabrae in the Free Marches and it reminded her of that short time in her past.

"Varric, have you known many Dalish?" she queried.

He glanced up at her and then off into the distance, "I knew one very well. She was a mage. Somewhat of a problem child I think. She was exiled from her own clan in the end." Varric thoughtfully place his rag against his chin, leaving an oily spot, "Misguided girl. Merrill was her name. Beautiful for an elf, but quite naïve in her understanding of demons and the Fade." Another pause, "That was back when I ran with the Champion of Kirkwall. She tried, very hard, I'll give her that…and she cared very much for the history of her people. Even had this mirror thing she brought with her. Could never remember what it was called, but it made my skin crawl to look at it." He seemed to drift off in thought for a moment, "Why do you ask?"

Enya shook her head and wrapped leaned forward toward him; her cheek rested on her hand, "That song you were humming brought a memory of a time when my clan met with Clan Sabrae. Their Keeper sang it on one of the nights, I think."

"Clan Sabrae was the Hero of Ferelden's clan," Cassandra spoke up from where she sat, now silent as her blade was sharpened. She had moved on to repaint the heraldry of the Inquisition on her armor.

Varric laughed, "Figures I would have connections to all of them," he commented ruefully, "Merrill came from Sabrae too. The Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall, and the Herald of Andraste…all around me, and I never even knew."

Enya tried valiantly to hide her shock at hearing herself listed with those other names. Her hand throbbed again, as if to remind her why she was classified with such the great heroes of Thedas.

"Yes, Varric, it must be terrible for your reputation to be connected to so many well-meaning people," Cassandra responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "What will the Dwarven Merchant's Guild think?"

"A change of heart, Seeker?" Varric responded dryly, "Last I heard, the Champion of Kirkwall was nothing more than an over-prominent thug to you."

"Until I heard the story of what really happened in Kirkwall, yes, she was," The warrior defended.

"So, indirectly you admit you were wrong. That is good to know, Seeker," the dwarf's word were filled with a playful, teasing note.

Enya smiled to herself, meeting his gaze. It was far too easy to goad the other woman.

"I never said I was wrong," Cassandra snapped her voice hesitant, "I was just…misled."

Varric shook his head, "I don't know. What do you think, Herald? Does that sound like she was wrong?"

Enya pretended to mull it over for effect and then nodded, "Yes. I think it does."

Cassandra stood, placing her brush and jar of pigment down on the shelf near the cot hard, "I…"

The warrior let out a disgusted snort and left in a huff.

Enya and Varric took a moment to enjoy their victory.

"She really is too easy," Varric commented.

Enya nodded in agreement and opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again as Solas passed between them. The other elf leaned his staff against the wall of the circular hut and she noticed his hands were coated with a layer of crusted blood. He pulled a cloth from his pack and dipped his hands in the bowl of wash water by the door. Enya watch silently as swirls of red filled the stone basin, falling from his hands. What enjoyment they had gained at Cassanda's expense now fled as the reality of their quest returned.

"Was that Cassandra I saw storming out of here not so long ago?" Solas asked, turning to them, his cloth held between his hands turned a slimy pink, "She seemed far more irate than is typical of her."

Varric was the first to shrug off his somber attitude, although, Enya observed, he had not really seemed to gain one.

"Don't worry about her, Chuckles," Varric reassured with a casual nature that was truly his own, "Seeker just needs to learn to lighten up."

"I would tend to agree," Solas commented as he settled onto his cot and began to unwrap his feet, "Her demeanor is quite heavy."

To Enya, he seemed quite serious until she noticed the upward quirk of his lips.

Varric laughed to himself, "You know, Chuckles, you are not quite the buzzkill I had thought you would be."

Solas wound one of his wraps around his hand and then started on the other, "And you are not nearly the light-hearted charlatan I had thought you to be." He paused as he reached his foot, "But it appears we were both wrong about the other."

"Isn't that something?" Varric asked rhetorically and he stood Bianca against the end of his cot before lying back.

Enya watched her two companions with a smile, her hand resting on her knees, legs crossed beneath her. Their conversation appeared to have reached a natural end and silence permeated the room despite the occasional groans and moans that wafted through the air from the other side of the hut. She closed her eyes where she sat, and shifted a few times, flexing the fingers of her left hand in an attempt to reduce the radiating pain in it. To an extent, she'd gotten used to it, but to another degree, she could find no escape but the distraction of 'doing.' Now, as she meditated on the past fortnight, she wondered how she had even accomplished so much in so little time.

Enya did not sleep well, and for the first time, her exhaustion did not aid her in staving off the shooting pains from the mark on her hand. Now, as they walked the miles to the Redcliffe farms, she wished very much for the comfort of sleep. Her sword weighed on her back like a crate of lead, though she kept up a pleasant and engaging banter with her companions. Cassandra, though she had seemed wounded by their teasing the night before, seemed to have overcome her insult and had rejoined them in amicable conversation.

"Varric, how did you come to join the Inquisition?" Solas asked as they came to a bridge that had been destroyed.

"Well I wasn't a conscious decision," Varric commented, "I was a prisoner being interrogated by Seeker here not long before the sky was blown open. After that…well how do you just walk away when the world in ending?"

"Interesting," Solas mused.

Enya observed as his gaze moved over the members of the group, "And what is, Solas?"

"Of all of us, I, an elven apostate, am the only one here by their own choosing." He replied, voice level.

If her were going to say something else, however, he was cut off by the whiz of an arrow. Enya jumped back, reaching around to unclasp the straps that held her sword and draw it. There was a faint huff from behind her and she turned to see Solas pulling the arrow from his forearm. She pushed and initial panic away, tracing the arrows path up to the rocks to the left of the path. Cassandra let out a fierce cry and charged, just as Enya spotted the archer. His Templar armor forced her to doubt that he was alone. She ran toward him as well but by the time she reached him, he already had a blade through his throat.

"There will be more," Cassandra warned as she pulled her blade free from his neck with a sickening squelch.

The click of Varric reloading his crossbow punctuated her words nicely. Enya spotted the guardsman first, two men, bearing heavy, steel shields advanced toward them, flanked by archers. She tried to spot how many before they attacked but she was not fast enough. One of the arrows sliced her cheek as she ducked to the side, but she pushed away the pain and swung her sword toward the nearest of the two heavily armored men. It hit and deflected with a resounding clang and the soldier lunged forward. She blocked the blow and kicked his shield, hoping to surprise him. It worked and while he stumbled, another arrow flew dangerously close to her head.

"Varric take out the archers!" she ordered as she attempted to press the man down with his own protection.

Help came in the form of a fiery blast that nearly seared her skin. The knight took it full force in the center of his shield, which glowed red hot for several moments. She pressed him again, attempting to get her blade moving more quickly to more easily damage his shield. When it finally cooled, his shield was so badly bent that he had to hold it far away from his body to use it properly. Enya kicked him again, blocking his sword as he swung for her. In the small amount of time that she was apart from him, he was enveloped in a shell of us and she took her chance, swinging the sword around her with all her might, she cleaved him in two.

She panted from the effort, then whipped her gaze over her shoulder to glance at Solas in appreciation. Enya nodded to him and the elven mage nodded back, setting the brush at the top of the hill ablaze, where the archers stood, still firing upon them. The few that had no met their fate at Varric's bolt, fell under the blaze. The sudden roar of fire caused the man Cassandra was fighting to lose his focus and, like the first man they had felled, he found a blade plunged deep into his exposed neck.

"This must be their main camp," Enya commented, breathless. Her shoulders ached from the effort of the fighting over the past few days.

Cassandra nodded as she deftly wiped her blade on the grass.

"It would seem so," she agreed, "I advise caution, if this is the welcome we have received, the camp itself is bound to be far worse."

Enya twitched her cheek, realizing how tight it felt. She raise a gloved hand and came away with blood. She'd forgotten about the arrow. The elven warrior shook it off, pushing it into the back of her mind where lay things that she had not acknowledged in years. It was not of pressing concern at the moment.

"We cannot afford to leave them organized. Without a central camp, they should retreat," Enya reasoned.

"I agree," Cassandra set her jaw, "We should move slowly. You've not fought so may before."

Enya, though she appreciated the care the woman was taking with her, felt a rush of irritation. It did not matter, and shouldn't matter. If she were not the Herald of Andraste to the Inquisition, her experience would be no obstacle.

"But I've seen you fight. Just don't allow them to overwhelm you," the warrior advised and then shifted her shield position, "We should move into the camp."

They moved forward slowly as a tight unit. The fire Solas had set in the brush had gone out as soon as the men had died. She stepped around the blackened bodies and charcoaled bows of the dead and on beyond the spiked log wall. A hail of arrows fell on them as soon as they passed through the opening, but Solas had been ready. A hum filled the air around her with the shimmering whisper of magic as the barrier spell descended over her. Arrows, though they hit, merely bounced off of it, though she could tell that each hit taxed him from the strain in his face. The first of the foot soldier attacked and again, they dove into battle.

It had gone rather well, Enya thought as she settled onto a wooden bench by one of the fire circles in the Templar's camp. She rested her sword on the ground, touching her fingers once again to the wound on her face. She took one of the potions Cassandra had given her and the foul taste distracted from the sting and the ach of her exhausted muscles. Cassandra and Solas were piling bodies and she wondered if she shouldn't rise and help. Instead, she found herself clutching the icons around her neck for strength.

The elf stood and crossed to the bodies. Cassandra threw a blanket over the bodies and doused it in lantern oil from the camp's stores. When she struck the flints, the sparks burst into flame. Enya stood next to the flames and uttered a prayer for them to Falon'din. Afterall, they had been, perhaps, good people misguided by their beliefs.

Varric took a raven from one of the cages in a tent. Enya listened to its caws as she stood by the massive pyre. He was sending word to the Crossroads, or to the Inquisition camp, she realized. The acrid odor of burning flesh filled her nose as the smoke blew in her direction. She tried not to gag as she rose from her seat to get away from it.

Enya settled outside the entrance of the camp, her legs crossed beneath her. She ran her fingers across the Ironbark talismans of the gods that hung on the thin cord around her neck. They were old, family heirlooms past from a much different time, but she appreciated their significance. Her fingers brushed the muzzle of the icon of Fen'harel. Her clan was odd that they still believed in the Dread Wolf as one of their patrons, but she rather liked wolves.

She caught the edge of a wrapped person's foot out of the corner of her eye and glanced up, to see Solas standing next to her. He fiddled with the something in his hand and as she looked on, she noticed that he held bandages. Enya's eyes settled on his left forearm and saw that the sleeve was crusted with blood from midway to his wrist.

Enya gestured at his wound, "Are you alright?"

He glanced down at it and crooked his staff in the bend of his arm, "I imagine I will be."

Enya rose, releasing her totems and approached him. She extended a hand toward him and glanced up.

"May I?" she hesitated as her eyes met his.

Solas nodded, "No need," he shook his head.

Enya stepped back and watched as he gripped his wound with his other hand. A glow surrounded it and she realized he was healing himself. He drew his right hand away and flexed his left. Again, she considered how much control he had over his magic. Most keepers did not seemed capable of such precision. Solas lifted his eyes from his arm turning his attention to her.

"You have not escaped injury either," he commented, gesturing to her face.

Enya raised a hand to the deep cut in her cheek, "I supposed I haven't. Can you…"

Solas blinked and nodded. He lifted a hand and a tendril of magic stitched closed the wound.

Enya brushed a hand over her face again and then nodded to him, "Thank you, Solas."

"Magic engenders great obligation on those who possess it," he responded.

Enya fixed him with an expression of vague amusment for he truly seemed incapable of accepting even the slightest credit for something, hiding his actions behind the drives of duty and obligation.

"In short, you are welcome, Herald of Andraste," Solas bowed his head to her and this time she knew for certain he was mocking her.

Enya laughed slightly and then stepped past him, moving back up into the camp. Varric and Cassandra had removed from the various trunks around, any supplies that might have been useful. Trying hard to ignore the smell of bodies, she bent over and picked up a greatsword from the pile of weapons. It's carefully etched pattern was stunning against the dark iron of the blade. She gave it a few swings and then released her own from her back. It had served her well, this this weapon was of a much higher caliber and if she had learned anything from the fight earlier, it was that she needed the best weapons she could acquire for this fight.


	12. More Than Just A Rebellion

a/n- So, I am posting this chapter for you guys because I felt it reached a natural stopping point for it. I didn't want to push myself to add more because I don't believe in pushing stories (or chapters) past where they should really end just for length. Anyway, I'm not super thrilled with this, but as usual, if you are, let me know with a little review. I hope that you enjoy it anyway!

More Than Just A Rebellion

The Inquisition's small forces arrived only a small while later but it was a relief to Enya and her companions when they could finally leave the desolate camp behind and move on to their intended destination. That was the thing about death and killing, Enya was beginning to realize. Though she felt the guilt as an immediate burden upon her, her companions, more used to this line of work seemed only to notice it in the silence that followed if they lingered.

In the time that they sat at the Templar camp's entrance, Varric had grown quiet, his bravado subsiding into a cloying silence. Cassandra, though commonly very active, became more so. As they waited the warrior paced, her jaw set in a tense line. Solas perched himself on a rock apart from the rest of the group and although this was not terribly unusual of him. His lack of observations about their behavior left a tangible void. When their relief finally appeared on the road in the form of a small mixture of Hinterlands and Inquisition soldiers, the group moved together to meet them at the road and after a quick explanation from Cassandra, they left.

Redcliffe Farms rested in the valley of some of the larger hills of the Hinterlands. Though those that surrounded the small settlement were nowhere near as tall or as craggy as the Frostbacks, they could easily qualify as mountains, with their climbing slopes and skyward reaching peaks. The farms themselves sprawled out haphazardly across the valley, as though they had been accidentally put there. They very likely had. She smiled at the sight of the druffalo grazing in their small pastures, the lawns of wheat and barley stretching out across the ground before them. She spotted the horses from a long way off. Master Dennets herd was indeed quite grand, at least from this distance. They wandered in the direction of what appeared to be the largest farmhouse in the dell.

There were stallions in the stable next to the house, all tall, all bay with white faces and fierce eyes. Enya smiled as she saw a girl galloping through the fields on one of them, moving at a breakneck pace. The little group passed the barn and moved up the curving path to the house. A woman tended the garden outside. She wore a chainmail apron tied to her cloth tunic that matched her steely hair. Enya approached her.

"Would you happen to know where I might find Master Dennet?"

"Ha!" the elderly woman let out a course laugh and rose from the garden to face them properly. She did so carefully, as though her knees and back did not want to unfold, "I should hope I could tell you. He's my husband, afterall." Her dark eyes narrowed, "What is it that you want with him?"

Enya stepped forward into the garden, "We wished to speak with him about his horses. We're in need of better mounts for our…"

"You're with the Inquisition aren't you?" the woman interrupted.

"We are." The elf set her shoulders in response.

There seemed to be accusation, perhaps disapproval in the tone of the horsemaster's wife, "My husband and I have had many missives from your other agents since the destruction of the Conclave. I cannot speak for my husband, but I do not see why we should choose to support you with the source of our livelihood when we have stayed neutral in the rebellions thus far. You are no different. You expect us to help while you throw away the well-established ways of the world around us."

Enya bowed her head, "I could not, in good conscience ask someone to give up their livelihood for a whim," she met the challenge of the older woman's countenance with a raised chin and course eyes, "The Inquistion is not a rebellion, it is a response to the destruction of the order of Thedas. We fight because we must and because no one else will. Not because we have been wronged by a party. If we could win this war without spilling a drop of blood, I assure you, Mistress Dennet, we would."

Dennet's wife stared at her hard for several moments and then nodded, "I cannot be certain that was you say is the truth, elf, but you have conviction in your words and that must count for something," The elderly woman sighed, "Very well, it is not my decision, but my husbands. You'll find him in the main house. He was working on some charts of our breeding lines for next year. Not that we'll need them if our herd is to be sent off for your use."

Enya stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. The woman lifted her head in surprise.

The elf looked her directly in the eyes and stated with absolute certainty, "I can make you the promise that you will still have horses to care for even if you choose to aid the Inquisition. We could not take everything from your family."

Enya lowered her hand and stepped back. She met the eyes of her friends, starting out of the garden as she did so. They followed suit but at not made it far when the woman called after them.

"You're her aren't you?" she asked, stepping to the end of the fence after them, "The one they call the Herald of Andraste."

Enya turned back and met the woman's seeking gaze but it was Cassandra who responded for her.

"This is she," the Seeker confirmed and then moved on past the group with a curt nod to the older woman.

Enya followed suit, the bile of the lie sitting in her throat but she pushed it off. Such a thing was necessary to gaining favor for the Inquisition after all. The elf, Varric and Solas caught up with Cassandra as she knocked her armored fist against the resolute wooden door. It opened only moment later to reveal a man in the middle of his sixth decade with icy silver hair and strikingly blue eyes that contrasted brilliantly with his ruddy complexion. His clothes were simple, the kind one works in, but they were clearly tailor made for him. The life of a horsemaster in Ferelden or Orlais was a lucrative one given the quality of animal required for mounts.

"Horsemaster Dennet. My name is Cassandra Pentaghast. We've come on behalf of the Inquisition."

Cassandra approached him, a hand on the pommel of her sword. The discussion went on for a while, a long and careful negotiation. Enya was left feeling decidedly frustrated with the older man's logic as before with his wife. Master Dennet insisted that they ensure the safety of the farms and it became clear to the Inquisition party that he would not back down from his stance. As a leader of his isolated community he very clearly felt it was his obligation to protect its people.

Dennet implored them to speak with his people, asking that they ensure the farmer's safety before he gave his herd over to the Inquisition. They agreed, although Enya thought that Cassandra sounded reluctant. True, this was more work than they really needed but it was worth it to acquire the horses the Inquisition required and to improve the views of their order as a whole. She said as much when Cassandra commented on the tedium of the tasks.

Night had begun to fall as they retreated from the horsemaster's home. Their new horses were tied to the fence with rough rope and soft leather bridles. Each were saddled their russet bay coats glistening. Dennet's daughter Seanna stood next to them with pride in her eyes though Enya detected a wistful melancholy in them as well. It was easy to tell, from the smudges of dirt on her dark face to the strands of hay that clung to her hair and clothes, that she loved her charges.

"Do take care of them," she called after them as they mounted up in the half-light of sundown, "They are such good horses."

Enya was already to far away from the girl to say anything but as she turned, she watched Solas, who had yet to mount his horse, respond to the girl. It was not a long comment and Enya could make out little more than, "I will…over…friends" but from the girl's emotional display of gratitude, the meaning was easily discerned. The elf smiled and turned back to follow Cassandra down the path. Varric bounced along next to her, the trot they had taken up forcing a sneer onto his face.

They settled in for the night on the edge of a shallow water hole. As always, they slept under the stars on new bed rolls provided to them by the Inquisition scouts. Varric took up his usual stance, humming and talking intermittently and soon Enya found herself drifting off to the easy drone of his voice. Despite her early entrance into sleep, her night was fitful, restless. A few times she had even woken to the burning of her hand and wanted to scream, at first in pain and then in frustration, but she did not. Her companions deserved sleep.

Enya sat on the stump of a tree, one leg drawn up to her chest for her to rest on. She watched the sun rise over the hills that surrounded Redcliffe's Farms, and she sighed quietly to herself. The itch of sleep still plagued her eyes, but she knew that nothing would allow her any more than an hour of peace even if she tried.

"You are awake early."

Enya turned to look at Cassandra as the woman approached her perch. Her face was draw, despite her recent rest and the elf could see concern in the woman's eyes. When the Seeker had drawn level with her she nodded.

"I've always risen with the sun," Enya responded, "It is a wonderful way to start a day, to watch the sun rise."

"Indeed," Cassandra replied flatly, and Enya knew she had caught her lie, "You know, Herald, you might not be a bad diplomat, but you are a terrible liar."

The elf shifted, closing her hand into a fist against her stomach. Cassandra caught the motion and let out a long sigh.

"Your mark, it still troubles you?"

"Only when I am not occupied," She responded, and glanced down at it, flexing her and open and closed as light pulsed from it, "It was not to this extend until recently."

Cassandra turned to look back over her shoulder, "Have you spoken to Solas?"

"Once we spoke of it," Enya replied, "He believes the pain is tied to the tears in the veil, the rifts and the Breach." She paused, "I feel less pain when I have closed a rift recently."

"Then we shall find you a rift to close," There was such conviction in her words, Enya found herself slightly taken aback.

She pushed it off with a nod of thanks at the Inquisition's instigator. Cassandra settled onto the ground next to her, slowly, showing the toll her years as a warrior had taken on her. Enya had noticed a slight limp but she had never felt the need to ask of its origin. Though now, as the thought occurred to her, she found herself curious. Without looking she mused.

"Enough about my hand. It is an old topic that is long worn," she commented, "I noticed that you limp."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, shock spreading across her face, "Goodness, is it that noticeable?"

The elf would have laughed if she hadn't taken into account just exactly how surprised and uncomfortable this revelation about the limp had made her companion. Cassandra had an untouchable, unbreakable air about her, but, Enya realized, deep down, perhaps very deep, there was still a person who was concerned about how other people saw her.

"No, not especially, but my mother was my Keeper of my Clan's second, a mage and healer. I learned very early how to notice when someone was hurting," She turned to Cassandra.

The warrior nodded slowly and then licked her lip, "I assume you were hoping for more than just my acknowledgement of an old injury?"

"Only if you don't mind," Enya replied.

Cassandra took a deep breath and set her shoulders, "I do not," she paused, "I've been a Seeker for most of my life, decades, in fact. I was tasked with several…difficult situations that required my skills. And I was happy to have them. Anyway, it does not really matter how I got there," she gestured impatiently, "I was in the Free Marches attempting to track down a group of Maleficarum, when I found myself in the company of a member of the Antivan Crows," she took a breath.

"And they are?" Enya asked, leaning forward.

"A league of assassins that originate in Antiva, but their influence is as widespread as their loyalty," Casandra shifted again, "He was an archer and I was not prepared for a fight. I had just lost the blood mages' trail and I was focused solely on finding it again. They had been counting on this and hired the Crow, Josai, to kill me. He tried valiantly but in the end, I brought him down," She sighed, "I took an arrow to my left knee though. The healer said that if it had gone any deeper I wouldn't have been able to walk. As it was, it took me weeks to heal, and a month after that for Seeker Lambert to allow me out on missions."

Enya, absorbed in her story shifted, "And what about the Maleficarum?"

"Finding them was the only reason I arrived a healer. I found their trail again and made my way to them. They had ravens. I killed the apostates and then sent word to Val Royeux that I had completed my mission and was in need of aid." "You took down the Maleficarum even though you were injured?" The elf asked, uncertain to be impressed or concerned by her companion's disregard for her own injuries.

"I hadn't the luxury of a choice. Once Josai did not return to them to inform them of my death, I would have been at their mercy," Cassandra's voice was so matter of fact, Enya found herself unable to question her reasoning, "Kill or be killed," She sighed and pushed herself up from her seat on the ground, "And that is how I acquired this limp. Does it satisfy?"

"Very much so," Enya smiled as she too rose from her seat on the tree stump, "Thank you for sharing."

Cassandra's reply was curt, "We should get moving. There is much for us to do and Haven will require our presence again soon."

They returned to the camp to find the fire had already been put out and the horses were already saddled. Enya reflected that she wished she could have left the saddle behind, but it would have appeared ungrateful if she had. They had not been required to make payment for these horses that were certainly worth far more than the average steed and the saddles alone would probably have fed a family for a month. She tied her bedroll to the back of the saddle, wincing as the cord she used slid roughly across her mark. Turning back to her preparations for departure, she caught Solas' contemplative eyes on her. He bowed his head to her as she met his gaze, threading a cord around his own bedroll to keep it flush to the saddle.

Enya climbed onto her horse, noting the width of the stallion's neck and shoulders and again wondered how the Dalish could possible think of horses as servants. With the rest of her companions mounted and ready, she clucked gently to her steed, picking up a gentle trot that carried them swiftly and effortlessly across the ground. They rode up a hill to the north and crossed a wide stream on their way to complete the tasks Master Dennet had asked of them.


	13. Elvhen

a/n- Hello my wonderful readers. I'm dealing with a bit of a sinus thing and some ridiculously cold weather right now as well as many other things, so I did not have a chance to post this chapter when I first finished it. Like the last, it's a bit shorter, however, I felt that it too reached a natural stopping point. I also tried my hand at elvish in this chapter. I truly enjoy using fantasy languages to the best of my ability. You'll find the rough translation at the end of the chapter. Please enjoy and thank you to those of you who caught the "arrow to the knee" reference I made in the last chapter. I'm afraid I simply couldn't help myself.

Elvhen

It was not long into the morning when they encountered the wolf pack that had been stripped of its natural fears. Indeed, as they attacked the influence of the Fade was evident in their eyes as their irises glowed jade in the shadows of the stone pillars these creatures called home. They were easily slain and as Enya wiped the blood of the wolves from the edge of her greatsword, she found herself troubled by how easily they had been corrupted. How easily the innocent creature's natures could be perverted to madness by the foreign energy, perhaps the fear, of demons made her heart ache.

Cassandra and Varric began to skin their kills. She glanced down at her own and cocked her head for a moment. Corporal Vael had told them how dire the refugees' need of warm blankets and clothes was, and yet something just didn't ring true. To use and animal that had been misled by the emotions of another seemed wrong in some way. Enya pushed this away, however. No matter how wrong it felt to her, there were problems bigger than those of these now dead animals and their corpses were of no use to anyone rotting in the wild.

She bent and pulled the hunting knife from the sheath around her leg and was about to cut into the last animal she had slain when she spotted her third companion kneeling by one of the bodies, his hand buried in the blood matted fur of the animal. Solas was speaking in whispers, but she heard the gentle timbre of his voice echo off of the cavern walls, a gentle melody of faintly discernable elven words. She doubted the sound would have reached her ears if not for reverberation of the cave walls and the acuity of her elven hearing. She blinked her emerald eyes a few times, trying to understand the words he said, but she knew too little of her people's ancient tongue and the bouncing of sound distorted them. The elf listened intently for a few moments more, but looked away as he rose and turned her direction. The moment had seemed private and she was struck by the sense she'd been intruding. Enya busied herself with cutting away the hide of the animal before her and at another glance, noticed Solas had begun the same process as she, although he did not touch the animal over whom he had spoken.

With four of them hard at work skinning their kills, it took little time to finish. Soon, with the bloody skins of the wolves rolled and tied to their horses, they journeyed on, away from the gully and up into the mountains. The rest of the day was spent slaying the few bandits that lived in those peaks interspersed with a journey deep into a cavern in which they found ancient runes that meant little to their ignorant eyes. Enya's Dalish nature and drive to preserve the history of her people built an unending desire to comprehend its meaning, but if she knew little of the spoken elven language, she knew even less of its writing. Solas alone seemed to gain meaning from them, but he did not share what he knew, merely stared intently at the mark brought out by the veilfire and then hid away his understanding.

By the time they had returned to their camp in the Redcliffe farms, night had fallen and Enya's body felt the pull toward sleep that brought out the pain of her hand. She settled onto her bedroll, intent on sleeping, but it would not come. Like and unending headache, her hand throbbed worse than it had the night before, nearly equaling the pain she remembered from when she had first awoken in the dungeon of Haven's Chantry. She squeezed her eyes tight and focused instead on the petty argument she could tell Varric had picked with Cassandra. Their voices were elevated, though not enough to be more than a companionable disagreement, and she rather found the tension that permanently existed between the two both fascinating and entertaining.

In Varric, she saw a friend and ally. Afterall, both of them had been captured by Cassandra under suspicion of terrible acts and yet both lingered for the sake of Thedas. Varric would say it was to save his own skin, that no one else truly mattered to him, but she knew this to be untrue. He had better motivations than simple self-preservation hidden deep under his thorny exterior and an intelligent, calculating mind went into hiding them from the eyes of most people.

Enya lay on her side, listening as the argument ended, and he launched into yet another story, this one of when he was a child in Kirkwall with his elder brother, Bartrand. She had not heard the name before, but from where she lay silently, she could hear the inflection of pain that laced his words as he discussed this memory. The elf recognized the melancholy tones of loss within these words and knew this Bartrand must no longer be alive.

She roused herself from her prone position at the approach of Solas. His wrapped feet made little noise on the soft grass that grew in their small camp, but Enya heard the crunch of his staff on the ground as he placed it less carefully among the blades. The other elf did not look at her on her bed roll, but as he passed he spoke softly.

"Reflections of ourselves can oft be found in those that die at our hand," Solas held out a hand to her, "You seem to have found a better place for conversation than our camp, Lavellan."

Enya took his hand and allowed him to help her up out of politeness. They wandered together out of the camp and up to the stump were she had perched that morning. For a moment, they stood in silence. Solas stared out across the farms, his hands clasped behind his back as his eyes raked the scenery. She realized he had no intention of taking a seat, so she allowed her weariness to take over, settling onto the stump.

"She was the leader of her brethren," the mage intoned.

Enya remember his hand buried in the fur of the black wolf they had killed earlier that day, "You mean the wolf you prayed for?"

"In a manner of speaking," Solas shifted slightly, his grey eyes wandering to her, "The veil was thin. A spirit who had witnessed the slaughter was drawn to her for her strength, intelligence, and caring."

Enya glanced up at him curiously, "That was the spirit to whom you were speaking?"

"There are spirits that approach all of us. Most times, the veil is too thick for us to notice and even when it is not, most people are not looking." He answered.

Her eyes returned to the field of druffalo before her and she curled her arm around her leg, pulling it tight to her chest. The other served to balance her.

"But you are always watching," her voice was soft as she spoke, echoing his and then she asked, "You spoke to it in Elvhen."

He seemed to relax in but a moment, the tight muscles of his spine loosened as he leaned back against the tree that stood next to the stump. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Many spirits speak the language of Elvhenan," he responded, "And I prefer it to the common tongue."

Enya nodded in acknowledgement, "Few Dalish know enough of our language to formulate basic sentences."

She looked over at him and saw his eyes harden.

"I am not Dalish, Herald," his response was darkened, "And if I were, I doubt I would know as much as I do."

Enya bristled, "You mean to say that the Dalish do not know our own culture?" she fixed him with a furious stare, "It is the hard won battle of our Keepers to hold what little knowledge is left of Arlathan alive."

Solas broke her gaze, turning out to the plains, "And I have little doubt that the Keepers make every attempt to understand the artifacts they have found, but the fact that you refer to Arlathan rather than Elvhenan only reassures me of how little they know."

Enya set her other foot on the ground and squared her shoulders, "Arlathan was the seat of the great culture the People once held in Thedas. I refer to it as the example of how elves once were."

"And you are not wrong to do so," he responded, "but there were other great places, Halamshiral, the cities in the Emerald Graves, the cathedrals of the Arbor Wilds and many more, stretching to the farthest reaches of the known world," Solas lowered his arms and turned back to her, "The Dalish speak of Arlathan when they should be searching for more."

"If we know so little, Solas, then help us to learn," she challenged.

Solas let out a puff of air and answered, "Many times, I have tried, but not all the Dalish have minds as open as yours. The word of their Keepers engenders far more trust that that of an apostate who claims to wander the Fade without injury."

Enya lowered her eyes at this, her anger dissipating with his frustrated tone. It made sense now, why he was so opposed to being thought of as Dalish. She was quite proud of her heritage, for to her, it meant she was Elvhen, and elf who did not bow to the will of the humans. The _Vir Tanadhal_ stated "We are the last of the Elvenhan, and never again shall we submit." She had always looked at this and thought on her people's stubbornness with pride. Now, she thought that perhaps it could be considered an obstacle, for they would not put away their stubbornness to learn from another elf, pieces of their culture that they were missing.

The gentle crunch of chilled grass alerted her to his movement. Solas glanced up at the sky for a moment and then back at the fire. Enya's eyes followed the same path and she noticed that they had spoken far longer than she had realized, for the darkness deepened and the moon rested to over their heads. As her eyes fell on the fire she recalled his words of greeting.

"You said that those that die often remind us of ourselves," she trailed off as his description of the wolf came to mind.

Solas' mouth curved into the faintest of smiles at her words and he said, "I was not speaking of myself," he gathered himself and bowed his head respectfully to her, "I believe we have spoken enough, Da'len."

The mage moved off as he finished the sentence, moving back toward the camp. Enya pondered his words for a moment before raising her voice.

"Atisha era, Solas," she called after him.

There was a pause in his step and he turned to her, "Atisha era, da'len."

Enya remained on her perch for a time, soaking in the glow of the moon. The horses drank from the small puddle of water and despite the crispness of the night air, she felt compelled to lower her toes into it. The chill sent a thrill through her body, awakening her for the first time since she had left Haven. Perhaps Leliana was right and a soft feather bed to sleep upon would greatly improve her nights. It mattered little, she concluded, for if her mission for the Inquisition would be as it had been over the past fortnight, a feather bed would be few and far between.

The elf sighed and drew her feet from the pool. Even the slightest breeze chilled against the droplets of water that still clung to her bare skin. Enya moved to her bedroll and settled on her side, waiting for sleep to greet her, but the fire of her mark chased it away and when she finally fell asleep it was with the thought that if she did not find a rift the next day, she might not live to see another.

They reached the Crossroads at midday after a conversation with Master Dennet on the demise of the wolves and a promise to send Inquisition forces to build watchtowers so the farmers might have warning for the attacks of bandits. Satisfied with their work, he released his horses to them along with some of his best handlers, however, he declined their offer to join them siting a loyalty to his family and to the people of the farms.

Their ride up from the Cross Roads to the Inquisition Encampment was uneventful and they were met by Scout Harding at its entrance. Enya swung down from her horse and smiled through the exhaustion that blanketed her face.

"Herald," Harding gave a quick bow that Enya forced herself to accept, "I have good news. Fighting on the West Road has ended. Corporal Vael joined forces with Commander Cullen's men, and they've taken the mage encampment for our own. With the Templars gone, the Hinterlands are settled."

"That is good to hear," Cassandra joined Enya in the conversation.

"Seeker Pentaghast," Harding gave another bow, "I also heard that you managed to convince Master Dennet to part with most of his horses for the Inquisition's use. Congratualtions."

"Thank you, Scout Harding," Enya replied, her smile widening, "There is a spot that we used for a camp in the Redcliffe Farms. The community is amenable if you would like to set up and Inquisition encampment there."

"We need the Inquistion to be seen across the Hinterland so that people believe we are there to protect them," Cassandra added.

The auburn haired dwarf glanced between them, "I will send some of my men out there to secure it, Herald, Seeker," she hesitated.

Enya's brows tightened in concern at the scout's expression, "Is there something else, Scout Harding?"

"Well, you see, Your Worship," she paused, "With all of the fighting there have been a lot of injuries and…I hate to ask you to do something else…"

Cassandra interrupted her stammering, "Out with it, Scout."

Scout Harding snapped to immediately, her ramblings gone, "Yes, my apologies, my lady. The area known as Calenhad's Foothold is ripe with elfroot. The problem is that there is a rift there, and my men can't get near it without getting chased off by demons or killed. We need the elfroot for poultices to help those with the fevers, but there is precious little to go around."

Enya felt relief wash over her and she thought almost that simply the gratefulness at this announcement had lessened the pain in her hand and wrist, but it soon returned full force.

Cassandra's eyes flicked to her for a moment and then the Seeker said, "Many brave men suffer for this fight. We will do what we can to ease their pain."

Scout Harding's expression immediately lightened, "Oh, thank you, my Lady, Your Worship." She bowed again and then turned away, returning to her men.

Varric approached them from behind, leading his horse reluctantly by the end of its reins. If possible it seemed even less pleased with its rider that its rider was with it.

"I guess this means we aren't heading back to Haven anytime soon?" he asked.

"Calenhad's Foothold is not far," Cassandra replied, "We should be delayed no more than a day."

"Oh good," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words, "and here I was concerned we would have a long delay.

Enya caught herself before a grin crept over her features. The twinkle in Varric's eyes told her that he knew.

"If you truly wish to ride back to Haven, you are free to go Varric," Cassandra responded, "Just be careful that your steed does not find and icy cliff on which to stand," she mounted her horse.

Varric growled something under his breath but clamoured awkwardly back onto his own. All mounted, they set off, Cassandra in the lead, for she clearly knew the way. It took them a short time to reached the ruins. The mark on Enya's hand pulsed steadily, sending painful aches up her arm as they approached the fade. The scar across her palm felt as though it might burst under the pressure of the energy that hummed verdant under the pink skin. Demons crept around it, shades and whisps that drifted or dragged themselves along. Enya dismounted and flexed her left hand to relive the pain and pressure in it but it was to no avail. The crackling of the rift filled the air around them.

There was a snap and then a deadening of sound as a pale blue barrier descended over her. Solas appeared at her side, ice magic boiling in the palms of his hands, ready for the coming fight. Enya drew her weapon over her shoulder, almost relishing the protective weight of it in her hands. They attacked as a unified force and the battle was quick. As the demons fell back through the rift, dissolved into energy, the rift softened, growing less chaotic as the dead passed through it.

Enya thrust her hand forward and released the energy of the mark. It ripped from her hand into the Fade but as the Rift exploded she felt the relief flood through her entire body as the pain abated. Panting, her eyes closed in bliss, she slipped her sword back into its sheath and rolled her shoulders.

Elvish translation:

Atisha era: peaceful dreams/sleep

Da'len: child or little child, perhaps young one.


	14. Stories and Songs of Strangers

a/n- First, let me tell you how sorry I am that it took so long for me to post another chapter. I've been bogged down with school work for the last week and a half so I haven't had the chance to really write anything of value. Anyway, I am not particularly impressed with this chapter, but I wanted to get it up for you to read and move on to the next chapter, which will hopefully be more interesting and better written. I have some time this weekend so fingers crossed this works out. Thank you for being wonderfully loyal readers.

The Stories and Songs of Strangers and Friends

Scout Harding's face lit up with gratitude as they returned to inform her of their success. After she sent her men to collect the necessary elfroot from the ruins, she invited them to stay in the camp that night, and celebrate the Inquisition with her. Enya nodded her assent and the party untacked their horses, leaving them in the paddock with the other Inquisition horses.

A fire roared in the center of the camp and they settled around it. The only member of the Inquistition Enya had truly met were those with whom it was important to meet. She knew the leaders, the key players but the odd soldier, she knew little of. At the campfire that night, she listened intently to the tales and motivations of the Inquisition's people and learned what had driven good and innocent people to throw their lot in with those the chantry called heretics.

There was a young man, whose father had been killed by the rebel mages during the fighting with the Templars. Instead of hating the mages, he blamed the chaos and identified the Inquisition as the only people who truly cared for the people. An old soldier who had seen the explosion that created the Rift wanted to know why the Divine had to die. He was certain the Inquisition would find the answer to his questions. A woman, who had once been a mistress to an Arl with few lands and even fewer manners, had sought a way to free herself from his reach. Her talents had revealed her to be well qualified to join Leliana's people as a…scout. She listened to each of these tales becoming more interested as the night wore on and the ale and mead passed around the fire took to her head.

Even Cassandra, who always seemed more uptight after consuming any alcohol around the fire at night, loosened up. She smiled, laughed and even told a silly tale of her own. Varric was no different than his usual self, though his jokes about Scout Harding's name became less and less polite as the night wore on and Enya found herself grateful that the young Scout had partaken enough in the drinking to brush them off as mere jibes in her favor. Solas was perhaps slightly more loquacious than usual, although he was still quite contained by his collected demeanor. He did reveal, at the jokingly accusatory request of Cassandra that had they had met at a time earlier in his life, the whole group would have found a very different individual. By the time she fell asleep, Enya felt more at peace with the people with which she had allied herself and the people that placed their faith in her.

As she woke the next day, Enya found that though there was little pain in her hand, her head was a different story. It felt as though she had attached a small rock attached to her neck. She rolled her shoulders and blinked against the brightness of the rising sun. The rest of her party were already awake, and she realized that Cassandra or Solas must have kept anyone from waking her. For once she felt rested, and the dreams of her past night lingered in her mind like sweet flowers that reminded her of home.

She shook her head a few times, found she regretted it and retrieved her belongings from the ground. The elf sighed, as she tied her bedroll to the saddle of her horse. Enya spotted Varric beside the entrance to the camp speaking with Scout Harding. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. She was not certain she had ever seen him look so uncomfortable. As she drew closer she could hear him apologizing to the cocky auburn-haired dwarf for his rudeness the night before. Solas, who leaned against a tree nearby bore an implacable smirk.

Scout Harding seemed to have taken Varric's remarks the night before at face value. As Enya watched, she gave the blonde dwarf a gentle shove, mutter something and then walked away shaking her head. To his credit, Varric seemed to simply shrug the entire incident off after that. By the time Cassandra had returned from what looked to be a satisfactory conversation with the requisition officer, the party mounted their horses and began the long journey back to Haven.

It took them three and a half days to make it back up the mountain pass. The steepness of the mountains slowed even their well-bred, young horses considerably and once they reached the higher altitudes that could do nothing more than walk as a snail's pace. Once, Solas had been forced to dismount in the hopes that his horse could be revitalized by his magic. Enya had reached out from her own and held the animal still so that he might approach it with the glowing crackle of magic emanating from his hands. They were successful, however, and in the end it was Solas' steed who led them the last leg of the journey to the gates of Haven.

Enya dropped from the back of her horse and untied the cinch seconds after her feet touched the ground. One of the stable's hands collected her horse from her and took it away. She stretched languidly in the frigid afternoon sun, glad to be back to a place that was familiar. Though the frozen mountain air was far from hospitable, it carried with it the smell of campfires and the forge, all signs that the Inquisition was continuing to grow.

The elf shouldered her pack and moved up the hill, through the gates and proceeded toward her house. It was odd to be leaving her party behind. After slightly more than a week of travelling together, it was odd to be parting company.

"See ya, Kid," Varric called as she stepped off toward the cabin.

She turned to reply, but simply nodded instead. He retreated to his tent and she saw him drop his pack inside the door, his shoulders heavy with weariness. The fabric fell shut as she turned away to follow Cassandra and Solas toward the Chantry. When they reached the stairs to the upper terrace, she cut away from them and headed toward the small stand of cabins. Cassandra's voice stopped her.

"Rest. But do not let yourself become too comfortable, Herald," She paused, her foot on the bottom stair of the steps, "We must leave for Val Royeux as soon as we are able."

Enya nodded and bade them farewell. Once inside her cabin, she shed her armour. The space was cold, but the fire she lit on the hearth soon filled the room with a rosy light. She sighed and settled into the chair by the window, reaching out with delicate fingers to the snowy covered needles of the fir. They pricked the fingers of her right hand but the needles were soft under the pads of her palm.

It was dark when she woke in the wooden chair. She had not noticed the heaviness of her eyelids until she lifted them open and realized they had fallen closed. The toll travel had taken on her must have been great for the fatigue that plagued her body as she dragged herself out of the chair drew close to overwhelming. She struggled across the room to her pack and pulled from it, the leftover lump of bread that had sustained her for the leagues back to Haven and settled onto her bed. As she finally lay her head down to rest, there were but a few crumbles of the loaf left and the ache of her hand was the only pain the plagued her. It was much less than it once had been, and she pushed it away as she unlaced her boots and curled, cat-like beneath the blanket that covered her bed.

The Chantry was flooded by the light of the mid-morning sun when Enya pushed open the doors. The torches and candles that flickered in their brackets guttered in the mountain breeze the pushed into the sanctuary. She strode down the aisle with purpose, bones no longer leaden with the stupor of long travel. Her armoured boots clicked on the stone as she approached the Chantry's War Room. Interesting that it was called so, she considered, a place of peace and faith twisted into a place of war. She was nearly there when a somewhat familiar figures stepped from the shadows toward her.

"Herald of Andraste," the creases around Mother Giselle's mouth bent into smile lines as she approached her.

Enya stopped to turn her attention to the Revered Mother, "Mother Giselle," she bowed her head in respect, "I'm glad to see you made it here safetly."

"It was a long journey, but a peaceful one," Mother Giselle thanked, "Your guards seemed unsure what to make of me. It seems that the Chantry's dismissal of the Inquisition has made it all the way to your underlings."

Enya stepped back a moment and considered this statement, "I don't believe that I have underlings, Mother Giselle."

"Perhaps underlings was not the right word then," The chantry mother furrowed her brow and stared at her, "But you do have people who follow your words as Andraste's Herald. I am honored that you have welcomed me here." She smiled, "I wanted to formally declare my allegiance to your Inquisition."

The revered Mother pressed her hands together and gave a small bow, "Should you need council, it is very likely you can find me here, in the Chantry."

Enya nodded, "Thank you, Mother Giselle."

She moved off down the center of the sanctuary. As she raised her hand to push open the door, it swung inward of its own accord. The sounds of a rather heated argument reached Enya's ears.

"It is a foolish idea!" Leliana pressed her fingers against the table and pushed herself of it, "Mother Giselle is a kind woman, but she does not understand the intensity and delicate nature of the Herald's position. Many still believe she is behind Justinia's death. They want her dead, Josie!"

Enya glanced at the armoured hand that grasped the door and recognized the dark metal that covered Cullen's gloves. She stepped through and exchanged a glance with him as he shut the door behind her.

"And their minds will never seen anything but the murder of the Divine if we never let the Herald speak with the remaining Clerics in Val Royeux. I'm sorry Leliana, but she _must _be seen the public eye or they will suspect that these Chantry-spun tales are true," Josephine set her writing board down on the table.

Enya remained silent and watched hot scarlet wax drip onto the edge of the map. The arguing continued around for several minutes. Cullen felt that they should appeal to the Templars, as he had voiced before, because they were far more likely to see her as an ally than the mages and therefore the debate over sending their "asset" to Val Royeux was unnecessary.

"They will support our cause!" He slammed a fist on the table after the third bout of conflict with Leliana.

The two had locked eyes on either end of the table and the glare each bore could have melted through steel. Cassandra stepped forward and placed a hand in the middle of the map

"Whether or not the Templars," She glanced at Cullen.

Leliana let out a scoff.

"Or the mages," Cassandra turned and icy stare on her red-headed colleague, "Will aid us is a moot point. As much as I hate playing politics, Josephine is right," Now she turned her gaze to Enya, "We need the Herald to be seen,"

"And heard," Josephine interjected.

"In Val Royeux," The Seeker turned back to Leliana, "But you are right, Leliana; she is in danger. And so I will be going with her."

Enya stepped forward then, and uncrossed her arms, "I would welcome your aid Cassandra," She smiled and nodded at the warrior, then turned her attention to the rest of the table, "Josephine, how soon should I meet with these Clerics?"

The Antivan's frustrated face broke with a smile of surprise, "It would be best if you left immediately, Herald. The Game is best played quickly before your opposition can undermine your platform," her dark eyes seemed to catch sight of Leliana's threatening stare for her expression faltered and she added, "But of course, you have just returned from the Hinterlands. I will need a day or so to arrange a ship for your passage across the Waking Sea. You'll leave then."

"Then the matter is settled," Cassandra's voice was deadly calm, "We haven't the support or reputation to sway the mages or the Templars to our favor. Perhaps this will help."

Enya remained at the table a while longer, listening as the conversation turned to the best way to maintain a hold over the Hinterlands. Her eyes flicked from each member of the Inquisition's leaders as they spoke, trying to understand their motivations. Leliana seemed to be filled with a controlled volatility that struck her as both a great strength and great weakness. Josephine cared greatly for each of her colleagues but that did not hinder her tongue when she felt she alone held the solution to a problem. Cullen's mind was brilliant, she could tell it in an instant. His hazel eyes held the calculating spark of a military tactician to rival the greatest generals and yet in it there seemed to be a consistent uncertainty. Enya could not tell whether it was directed at himself or toward his fear or finding himself wrong. Cassandra too, had a sharp intellect hidden behind her brash, hardened exterior. She and Cullen seemed to flawlessly work together in formulating plans for the best camp placements, troop movements and resource requisitions.

If Cullen was uncertain of himself, Cassandra, though she hid it well, was even less so. Enya had already seen her question her choices once when it came to the Inquisition and it seemed that the warrior did so repeatedly. She had seen this a few times in her clan. And experienced Hunter might be killed by their prey, or fall sick of a wound and one of the hunters would step up. It was clear that Cassandra was used to following someone, though command was certainly not foreign to her. Even so, Enya could see that the pressure of highest command was taking its toll. She didn't blame her; if she had suddenly declared a rebellion against a great religious power after the death of her last patron, she doubted that she would be much stronger.

Enya excused herself as the day drew on and made her way back toward her cabin, heading toward the tavern on her way. The few times she'd eaten from the establishment had not been thrilling, but it was not as though it needed to be to fill her stomach. Rosy light poured from the windows onto the golden dirt and stones of the well-worn footpath that curved around the tavern's side. She paused to admire the way the flickering light inside danced on the ground and smiled at this moment of peace. It was nice to take a breath for once.

The door swung inward on well-oiled hinges as Enya pressed a hand against it. People whose name she did not know were settled at the tables, some passed out on their own plates while their companions chatted on, uncaring other simply stared off into the air as though they could see through the Veil to the world beyond. On pair stumbled in circles in what she thought might have been a dance had they been sober enough to remember the steps. As it was, it seemed as though if the two let go of each other, they might lack the balance to keep standing. She shook her head, a smirk adorning the right side of her face as she approached the bar.

So busy, she had been, watching she had disregarded the mellow tones of the bard and her lute as they stood in the far corner. Enya narrowed her eyes as she leaned against the bar and then realized that it was the words that were familiar though the melody itself was much changed. It was a song once written by a human who was sympathetic enough to the plight of the People to sit and listen to the naïve children of a clan tell their version of a history. The song was simplistic, its lyrics, far from the truth of the tale but it had found its way into the Clans regardless. She ordered a mug of mead from a barmaid who, upon seeing the Mark that stretched across the palm of her left hand, refused to let her pay.

Enya drank her mead alone, sitting in a corner away from the other parishioners of the tavern. It was better to watch, to notice the Templar in the corner that shook from Lyrium withdrawal as he raised his cup to his lips or the man who gazed longingly at the visage of an elven woman that perched at the end of a table. She whispered into the ear of a different man and the first narrowed his eyes and glared into his mead.

The door of the tavern swung inward again and, unsurprisingly, a blonde dwarf entered, crossbow slung across his back. She raised her glass to him as he spotted her and his face split with a lopsided smile. He came over to her.

"And I was beginning to think you didn't like having fun," Varric said as he drew level with her.

"Oh, no," Enya set her glass down on the table behind her, "I know how to have fun. I just prefer to be completely sober when there could be bandits about."

The dwarf chuckled, "In my experience, those bandits sneaking around? Just about as good of a cure for drunkenness as anything. I should know."

"I'd just as soon not have to worry about sobering up."

Varric shook his head, "Eh!" he waved a hand and then sat down at her table, pulling a roll of parchment and a quill from his pocket, "So, we've been back in Haven all of twenty four hours and already they're sending us off to play politics in Val Royeux. They don't waste any time, do they?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "How do you already know?" She drew a knee up onto the seat of the chair and wrapped her arm around it.

"My spies are everywhere," he smirked at her.

Enya stared at him, her eyebrow creeping toward her hairline until he relented.

"Cassandra asked if I would join you," Varric stood and grinned back at her, "You know, just in case everything goes to hell and you need someone with, say, a nice crossbow to handle the situation."

She narrowed her eyes, "I think I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself thank you."

"Well, I suppose we'll see, elf," he started toward the bar, "You'll be wanting another, yes?"

Enya glanced at her nearly empty mug and then up at him, "If wouldn't mind one, no."

He chuckled, "I'll be right back."

When he returned he returned to his writing and she graciously accepted her second drink. The meadin her mug was not strong but whatever Varric was drinking started his mind wandering away from his task by the bottom of his first flagon. Their voices mingled with those of the tavern's other occupants when the familiar Ferelden "Andraste's Mabari" rang through the smoky wooden building. Enya smiled as Varric launched into a tail of life in Kirkwall dealing with the Dwarven Merchants Guild.

"I'm a businessman really, but it isn't my whole life," Varric commented as they left the tavern.

Enya laughed, "From what you've said of the Merchant's guild, what a dwarf considers a businessman makes what the rest of the world's businessmen seem like flower sellers. You're starting to make more sense to me."

She turned to her dwarven companion, an alcohol infused smile on her face. Behind him, she spotted Solas sitting on the low rock wall. Enya felt her smile slide away and she nodded to him in acknowledgment as their eyes met. She couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw the corner of his lips quirk upward in a half smile. Varric pulled her away from the tavern and bid her good night as they passed his tent. With a sigh, she wandered toward her cabin, eyes drifting into the night sky to settle on the Breach. Its green glow blotted out the stars. She felt the smallest twinge of pain in her hand, a reminder of what was expected of her.


	15. Silence in the Fade

a/n- So this chapter gave me some serious trouble when it came to writing. I just couldn't find the motivation to write what was happening in this chapter past the initial character conversation. I also had a presentation and two papers over this past week that account for why this is being posted so late. Anyway, I sincerely apologize for the lateness of this post again and I hope that, since I am now on spring break, I will have the time to get down to business and get some chapters up. So, without further ado, enjoy the next chapter of Wisdom or Pride.

Silence in the Fade

The soldiers training under Cullen's careful command clashed as she walked out of Haven at mid-morning. Their punishing drills of sword and shield were repetitive, but at the same time it seemed as though they had improved. She smiled at the Inquisition's general as she passed him. Enya squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she picked up a run just past the stables and the smithy. It had been a long time, even before she'd arrived at the Conclave that she'd had the chance to run.

A Dalish hunter trained daily, running long distances through the trees and on the ground so that if necessary, they could pursue their prey. It was an exhausting and strenuous task but something to which she had grown accustomed. Enya lifted her chin and drew a breath as she reached the top of a hill. The first great incline was always the hardest, but then the body grew used to the thankless pounding of feet to ground. She let it out and with it, her thoughts. The sweet, spicy scent of the mountain firs and the crisp aroma of snow filled her nose as she breathed again. Calming and quieting, the smell seeped into her like water melting through cracks in stone. The pain of her Mark, the ever-present pressure of her expected fate faded, and all that mattered was the steadiness of her breath as her strides passed by.

When her breath finally began to catch in her chest, Enya slowed her pace to a steady jog and then a walk. She had followed the road, hadn't stopped to think about where it would take her, but now she saw that she must have journeyed the path she would have taken had she not chosen to go through the mountains to reach the Temple. The ground before her was charred but the once torchlike bodies had gone out. Their blackened, screaming forms left marks on her mind as she passed them. A thrum of silence filled the air, unnerving and surreal, as she gazed up at the barren rocks that stretched toward the punctured sky. Her emerald eyes reflected its cold, burning light as she crept into the Temple itself.

The Inquisition's men seemed to know who she was. At this point, Enya wondered if there was anyone in Thedas who wouldn't recognize her. She returned their salute as she passed them, clasping her fist over her heart, thumb toward her chest in a superior gesture. Though she did not feel it was even, her title as the Herald of Andraste made her somehow more highly ranked than they.

The voices that had spoken to her last time remained silent. The memory of what had come to pass, Solas had explained, echoed through the Fade back to them. Now as she wished that they could or would speak to her, anything to tell her what had started her on this mad path of supposed Divine Fate. Despite her hopes, there remained only the deaf hum of the spiraling column of Fade energy that bridged between the tarnished ground and the broken sky. She settled on the edge of the second tier of rubble of the Conclave and stared up into the abyss above her.

"It is odd to hear the Fade remain silent when one comes with so many questions."

Enya did not try to hide her surprise as she whipped around to face the source of the familiar voice. Solas stood, leaning on his staff. Mirth danced in the seas of his stormy eyes, though his face was inquisitive and impassive as ever. She had no way of knowing how long he had stood observing her, nor when he had arrived at all.

"Andaran Atish'an, Enya," he greeted as he moved to join her on the ground, "I apologize for startling you. The depth of your concentration was greater than I had anticipated."

Until this moment, she was not certain he even knew her given name, but the use of it by anyone washed over her like waves sifting through grains of sand. She smiled as he settled beside her.

"It is no matter," Enya glanced first at him and then up into the Breach, "I had hoped it might speak again, like when I was last here," she confirmed, "But there is such great silence here. Deeper than anything I have ever experienced."

She turned back at him and saw his gaze falter. His face was drawn and the dark grey of his eyes seemed to darken with the concerned curve of his brow. Solas looked past her at the swirling vortex of the Breach. His pensive silence impressed upon her the extent to which he was effected by the Fade.

"The explosion at the Conclave killed many here, in what we consider the true world," he answered, "The event was reciprocated in the Fade. Like any place in Thedas, the spirits roamed just through the veil. We can feel them, sense their presence as they flow through us in their reality," He glanced up at the sky, "Spirits of wisdom, purpose, peace and reconciliation were drawn here. Many were killed when the Veil was torn open, but more fell through into our world."

Enya narrowed her eyes, "There are spirits here?"

"No."

The harshness of his short answer revealed the rawness of his feelings. She opened her mouth to apologize for her bluntness but he continued.

"They flooded through the Breach like blood from an open wound into a world that had been torn by events too terrible to comprehend. Anguish, fear, regret and rage perverted them," he met her gaze, "They became the very demons we faced."

The intensity of the stark honesty in his eyes forced her to lower her gaze, "Solas, I…"

He held up a hand, stopping her words "You could not have known. Ir abelas, da'len."

Enya drew in a breath as the silence between them stretched.

"You came here for answers," Solas pulled himself up with his staff and held out a hand for her, "I cannot give you the answers that you seek, but I might suggest another path of inquiry."

She considered him as she allowed him to help her up, "Alright. What is it?"

"I have been considering the scale of this destruction. The orb that our perpetrator used must be recovered."

They began to walk back toward the upper rim of the Temple. The red lyrium glowed eerily and as they past, it seemed it almost spoke to them with sinister, whispered words. Enya gave it a wide berth. Varric's warning about it still fresh in her mind. She mulled over Solas' words.

"You think it survived?" she turned her green eyes on him as they passed the guards, "With the strength of the explosion, isn't it more likely that it was destroyed?"

"Perhaps, but it is far more likely that anything with the power to create this might also be built to survive beyond its purpose finding fruition," Solas reasoned.

Enya nodded, "I suppose," she paused as they passed the guards and returned the salute, "A device that powerful shouldn't be left to chance. In the wrong hands it could be…"

She gestured toward the spikes of stone that climbed toward the sky above their heads.

He nodded, "I came here today to see if any trace of it was left."

"And did you find anything?" she pressed.

"If the device survived the explosion, then it was removed from the Temple soon after."

Enya had not realized how far she had run, but as she looked down the valley toward Haven's Chantry, she was shocked by the distance.

"I have found no trace of the orb in the memory," Solas reported.

Enya paused in her step, "Then whomever caused the explosion may still be alive."

Solas nodded, "It is not an unlikely possibility."

Ahead, Enya spotted the smithy emerging from behind the edge of a rock face. The bellows of master Harrit pumped smoke into the air. His apprentices hard at work crafting swords and armour to outfit the growing Inquisition. Maintaining and providing for an army was no easy feat. She and her elven companion drew silent as they approached Haven's gates, for their conversation was not that type that should be heard by the many recruits and volunteers. Enya maintained his pace, walking next to him all the way back to his cabin.

Once inside, she was reminded of the comment he had made about having few personal belongings. It had not registered what he had meant until she gazed around the simple, sparsely ornamented space. A shelf of finely covered books drew her eye. Enya crossed to them, but found, through further examination, that many of them were written in languages she could not read. Even some were perhaps written in ancient elven.

Solas leaned his staff against the frame of the door and shed the green wool vest he had belted over his everyday clothes. She turned to him as he drew an orange from a bowl by the door. He began to peel it very slowly and carefully. Enya might have been amused had her thoughts not still been occupied by the thought of a potentially living adversary.

"While it is important that you mind does not stray from the task at hand," Solas' voice interrupted her musings, "It does not do to dwell on things that cannot yet be rectified, lethallin."

Enya blinked at him as he settled into the chair at the worn wooden desk.

"How else am I to solve such problems?"

She gazed away from him, out the small window. Her shoulder pressed hard into the wood of the shelf. Enya watch a few people wander about near the requisition tents and let out a long breath.

"You trust that it is not your burden alone," Solas replied after a long silence.

Enya turned her green eyes on him, "But was it my burden to begin with? I did not ask for this task. If the person who caused the explosion at the Conclave it still alive then it is my duty, as the one in possession of this mark," She held up her left hand as green light flared from her palm, "to oppose them. I have no special skills nor talents and yet the people here expect that I might be chosen by their god, by his prophet?"

Solas shifted in his seat, his eyes falling to the fingers that now pressed together, creating a perfect bridge between the arms of his chair over his lap.

"A lesser person would not see it as their obligation to stay. They would see only a lack of responsibility for another's actions or for other's anguish," He raised his eyes to meet hers, "It would not surprise you, I think, to know that I do not believe you are Andraste's Chosen," he paused and drew what seemed to her to be a careful breath, "However, you have been given an opportunity, whether by fate or by chance I cannot say, to shape the future of Thedas. You have already chosen to accept this. What matters now is what you do with what you have been given. I simply hope the path you choose it right."

Enya held his gaze for several moments after he finished his sentence. The carefully chosen words had managed to diffuse the frustration that had knotted her tone. Finally, she took a breath an stared back out the window. He was right after all. The silence stretched in the cabin for several long moments. Finally, the fasteners of the fabric squeaked as Solas rose from his chair and approached her.

"Ir abelas, lethallin," he ran his fingers over the covers of the volumes on the shelf, "I should have left you to your wanderings today."

Enya turned to him in surprise, "No. You should not have," she lowered her arms to her sides, "I needed to speak with a friend, Solas."

She thought she saw the smallest of smiles break his features for a moment. Then it was gone. It seemed a natural end to their conversation. He seemed to notice it as well, for as she started toward the door, he rose from his seat to open it for her. As Enya stepped outside, the frigid mountain gale buffeted her face. She paused in her step and turned back to him, throwing hand out to stop the door. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"We leave for Val Royeux tomorrow," she began, "Would you accompany us, Solas?"

The elven mage bowed his head, "I would be honoured."

Enya lowered her hand from the door and smiled back at his impassive expression, "Until tomorrow, Solas."

"Dareth shiral, lethallin."

She turned away and the door clicked quietly behind her. Enya made her way back to her own abode and rolled her shoulders as she stepped through the door. The effects of the run were beginning to settle in, weighing on her like lead. It was still early in the day however, nearly time for the noontime Chant to begin up in the chantry. She wondered after a meal but disregarded the notion. There was no sense in eating food she did not truly need when the Inquisition's forces were poorly supplied to start.

Instead, she busied herself by cleaning the blood out of the deep engravings in the hilt of her blade. It wasn't fancy, a simple and functional weapon with moderately good balance, but it seemed the last owner had not taken care to thoroughly clean it. She dabbed water into each crevice and let it sit for a moment before she ran a cloth over it, inspecting each time she pulled the rag away. The brown film slowly dwindled with each wipe until well over an hour later she had cleaned it to a satisfactory level of grime.

In the morning, they rode set out from Haven and headed west along the Frostbacks. The sun, when not obscured by the peaks of mountains, fell on their backs, warming them. The road led them slightly north and they passed by the bend in the rode that lead to the Temple. Their conversations ceased and the group grew solemn as they past under the outer edge of the green abyss in the sky. Enya's hand burned into her skin for the first time since she'd closed the rift four days prior. She clenched the reins until they were well clear of the Breach and the pain again subsided.

"So," Cassandra's Orlesian lilt broke the silence, "No doubt you spoke with Josephine about this mission. She had mentioned speaking with you."

The night before, Josephine had sent word that she wished to speak. Enya had obliged and then listened to Josephine lecture her on the dos and don'ts of Orlesian culture. When the conversation was through and the Inquisition's ambassador satisfied with her tutelage, Enya left feeling more confused than she had when she'd come. Her reticence about speaking for the Inquisition doubled in the face of the breadth and complexity to which Lady Montiliyet had alluded.

Enya nodded slowly, placing her attention on the Seeker. Her face must have shown her concern, for she watched a reassuring smile split Cassandra's.

"You have little to fear, Herald. Our ambassador is a true player of The Game, but she over complicates matters," She explained, "We simply need your voice to be one of the many heard in Val Royeux. What you say matters less then how you say it."

"Every time I hear someone talk of Orlais I think of the Merchant's Guild," Varric commented, "Why anyone would want to live in a constant state of hiding is beyond me."

"I do not often find myself agreeing with you, Varric," Cassandra turned to the dwarf, "But on this account, I wholly agree. The years I have spent in Val Royeux rivalled those I spent in Nevarra in abhorrence."

Enya raised an eyebrow, "I take it you do not like the politics?"

"You mean the constant stream of murder corruption and deception that the Orlesians call a court?" Cassandra's voice carried and edge, "It is a frivolous and pointless cadre of events that could easily be settled in a matter of moments with but a blade and a set of morals."

They descended from the mountains along a long rocky trail lined with what felt after an hour of unending switchbacks. When they finally reached the bottom, however, the air was mild and the scene of autumn grains wafted along the low hills from where the plains met the Waking Sea. It would not be long before they reached the shore and then on to their mission.


	16. The Product of Contention and Deceit

a/n- Hello again. I finally have produced a chapter for your of which I am somewhat proud. Between excessive amounts of costuming and supply acquisition, I have managed to string together this chapter for your reading pleasure. Hopefully I will accomplish another as the week goes on. I believe I am will be able to get another out to you before I return to school and am swallowed up by the realities of the second half of the semester. Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy my next chapter. -Tabitha

The harbor of Val Royeux was filled with a wide array of boats in different styles, colors and functions. To Enya, it seemed unimaginable that such an elaborate place could exist. As their own ship glided over the crystalline, turquoise water she stood at its prow, hanging on to the rope that held tension on the staysail. Some fisherman stood at the dock unloading barrels of fish from their barge. One stumble and fell off the dock into the water. For a moment, Enya was worried that he would not resurface, but after few seconds, the man's head broke through the ripples next to his boat and his companion, laughing, helped him back onto the boat.

"Have ever been to Val Royeux before, Herald?"

Enya glanced back to Cassandra as the Seeker came to stand behind her with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Enya shook her head, "I have not. My clan travelled mostly in the Free Marches, sometimes in Nevarra, but never this far south," she paused and then gestured at her Vallaslin, "Orlesians are no the most accepting of the Dalish. Something we've had to learn through hard experience."

"Yes," Cassandra paused, "I suppose that is true," she leaned forward, her elbows pressing heavily into the wood of the railing, "Val Royeux is exceptionally beautiful, the seat of power for the Empire. As a Seeker of Truth and as the Right Hand of the Divine, my duties have lead me to spend much of my time here."

With a smile, Enya replied, "You must be happy to return."

"Not as much as you might expect," As Enya watched, Cassandra picked a sliver of wood off the railing and dropped it into the water before straightening and facing to her, "Much of Val Royeux is heavily steeped in the political turmoil of Orlais and the rest of Thedas. I cannot say I am overjoyed to return to such complicated matters."

Enya nodded, "I hadn't expected that you'd like politics."

"No, certainly not," The Seeker turned away, "But I digress. We have a mission and standing around talking will accomplish nothing."

Cassandra wandered away and Enya returned her attention to the docks for a moment as the crew of their ship pulled on thick, rough lines to moor them to the great, stone pillars that rose from the water.

The greenery that surrounded the harbor blew in the warm breeze that aided their docking as Enya stepped onto the cobbled street outside of the shipyard. Following level with Cassandra, she glanced around in wonder at the many vibrant hues of tints that adorned each building. At times her eyes watered with the array of colors that garnished the streets and stalls, others it was the aroma of spices that brough tears to her eyes. In either case she found that despite their wateriness, it was not hard to recognize the expressions of wariness or even fear that arose as they approached. When entering the gates of a grand bazaar, a woman passing woman in a mask actually faltered in her step upon her recognition and then ran.

"Well, I don't think our presence needs to be announced, Seeker," Varric commented.

Cassandra glanced at the dwarf, "Very astute Varric."

Enya caught the smirk as it crept onto Varric's face and nearly smiled herself. It was, however, odd that people would run from them simply because they were the Inquisition. The idea that people thought her guilty for the death of the Divine still pressed on her, a weight tied to her that she pulled behind her with each step.

An Inquistion scout ran up to them, not doubt one of Leliana's, "Seeker Pentaghast!" she called out, "Seeker Pentaghast," the young woman leader forward, her hands on her knees for a moment, "They are gathering in the market. The people have called Templars."

"Templars?" Solas spoke out and his voice was laced with unease that this new prospect.

Enya glanced to him, but he seemed far too focused on the scout to take comfort in her friendship.

"For what purpose?" Cassandra demanded her voice fiery.

The scout withdrew for a moment and Enya felt her heart stir in sympathy. She could still remember the intimidation Cassandra could produce with just a look and a few words.

"For their protection," the Scout panted, "From the Inquisition, my Lady. They have heard the Herald's name has whispered in the streets. They fear for their lives."

Cassandra's hands clenched at her sides. Enya felt frustration boil her blood as she stepped ahead of the scout to glance further into the city. The market at the end of the street teemed with dresses and doublets as a mass of onlookers gathered around some interesting spectacle.

"Thank you, Scout Enviers," The Seeker's voice broke her concentration, "Send word to Leliana that we have arrived."

"As you say, My Lady," Enviers looked to Enya, "Your worship."

Her hand clasped tightly over her chest, she bowed. Both Enya and Cassandra reciprocated the gesture. As they emerged from the long line of statues into the market, the roar of a gathering crowd overwhelmed them with the crows of parroting nobles and merchants. Their voices repeated cries of prices and echoed the calls of one voice that sounded above them all. The plumage of each skirt made it difficult to weave through the square until they were recognized. Then, like skin parting around the finely honed blade of a sword, the crowd opened to allow them admittance.

The Inquisition delegation moved toward the far end of the market. Enya strode just slightly ahead of her companions, the crawl of eyes on her skin like the legs of poisonous spiders, whose webs hoped to hinder her. She felt hesitation and reticence dragging at her feet but she held them at bay, her iron scale maille glimmering in the radiant Orlesian light. Their gaze was not so dissimilar to the inhabitants of Haven when she had first been lead from the Chantry dungeon into the light of the Breach.

"The Conclave left us without a Divine and we struggle to make sense of her death," A strong voice bearing a heavy accent rang out over the Market and echoed back off the blue and white spire that rose in the middle of the thoroughfare, "But the truth is she was struck down at the prime of her power. She would have brought peace to Thedas with her conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Now instead, we find the Conclave destroyed, the ashes no more and her killer walks free!" the woman took a break, her ravings more than satisfactorily stirring the tension of the crowd.

Long, black hair falling loose of its tie, Enya and her companions emerged from the crowd. Her fingers itched to grab the hilt of the weapon slung across her back, purely for the comfort it had come to provide her, but she refrained. The Chantry Mother standing on the stage were drawn to their well armoured party as they emerged from the crowd. Enya spotted the recognition in her eyes and a welling of triumph behind that as the woman's stance grew steadier.

"And where, you ask, is this killer, the murderer of the Divine. What judgment will follow the footsteps of this heinous heretic?" Her finger cast aspersion to the buckle of Enya's armour.

Enya stopped as the gaze of the crowd fell on her made hungry by the impassioned words of this Chantry honorary.

"Look no further," The revered mother's glacial eyes fell upon her, freezing her to the spot.

A person less used to such accusation might have flinched, but she had expected this kind of attack. Enya stood tall and returned the woman's gaze with eyes that blazed with a soft intensity.

"The so called Herald of Andraste, taking the name of our Maker's bride as her protection. Here she stands before us, claiming providence as her salvation but we say," she paused and the crowd drew close in this momentary silence, "This is a false prophet. Andraste's Herald would not be chosen from those of Elfkind"

Enya lifted her chin, hair falling away to reveal her ears proudly, "We came in peace, Revered Mother, yet this is how you greet us? I ask that we might sit together and speak on the matter of the Breach, deal with the threat to which it has exposed our world!"

"If you did not speak in lies then your words would carry more weight," her habit bobbed slightly with her words, "But alas, this is not true. You, Elf, come to us to spread deceit and falsehoods while we mourn the passing of our Most Holy," the seed of triumph in her eyes blossomed, "But we will not hear your words."

The cleric stepped back slightly, directing her captive audience to the arrival of the Templars. In lines of steel plate armour they marched across the market toward the throng of angered and confused onlookers. They parted and a man with a buttery face and pepper-grey hair stepped forward through their ranks to appear, smug faced and beady eyed at its head. Enya saw Cassandra stiffen in recognition out of the corner of her eye. The cleric who had greeted them bore a prideful expression that died under the influence of shock as a templar stepped onto the dias and struck her across the back of the neck. Enya saw pain stich tight the muscles over her lower eyelids as she dropped to the ground before the betrayer. She stepped forward toward the Cleric but it seemed that no one

"Lord Seeker Lucious, it is imperative that we speak with…" Cassandra took a couple steps toward the butter-faced man.

He sneered at her and the disdain in her eyes seemed to stop her stride, "You dare address me?" Lord Seeker Lucious' sneer grew, "You and your heretical movement, come here, hoisting among your ranks a puppet to play prophet. The survivor of the Conclave no less. You haven't the right to address anyone."

Cassandra stepped back, her mouth open in a combination of shock, anger and hurt. Enya held out a hand as the warrior went to speak, silencing her kinetic words. She turned to this new Seeker with accusatory eyes.

"You accuse us of treachery while you lead the Templars to attack a member of your Chantry," Enya paused to let her words sink in, "The Inquisition came here to talk. Instead we find you attacking the very clerics that came to you for protection," she gestured at the stage, "It makes me question the integrity of the Templars."

Lucius laughed, "The Chantry has failed. Without the Divine to lead them, they are all but a useless entity," he gestured broadly to the Templars that had followed him into the square, "We are above this political madness; we are called to a higher destiny, our destiny. All others are nothing but fantasy."

Enya stepped forward, a flare of fury blazing in her chest. She had not patience for men who felt they needed to blittle others, "Then you came purely to make it known that you no longer protect those who worship Andraste!"

"We serve a higher purpose. The Templars will no longer make their home in Val Royeux. By your very presence here, this city is lost," He leveled his eyes to stare down at her, "Templars! To me." He commanded.

Lord Seeker Lucius strode across the cobbles of the market place before the stage and gestured for the men to follow him. They did without question, all but for one young man whose pale eyes glimmered with indecision. He looked upon the Lord seeker with the expression one often expected of a young child understanding the folly of a drunkard for the first time. Enya, through her frustration, saw the placatory hand the other Templar placed on his shoulder and felt for him as he turned and followed with halting steps.

She watched, her arms leaden by a helpless lack of tension as Cassandra pushed forward, rushing to keep up with the man. Enya inferred that he must be a former mentor or leader in some way but the broken respect and desperation she saw distorting the Seeker's face.

"But Lord Seeker, you must…"

Seeker Lucius cast her a glare filled with fury that trapped the warrior's voice in her throat. As the party of Templars left the market place in stymied silence, Enya gazed after him. His reaction had seemed more than what it was as though there were some deeper hold in place that drove him beyond blind ambition. Given the respect Cassandra seemed to have had for him, he could not have always been so arrogant.

"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Varric commented as he wandered closer to Enya and Cassandra, "Just makes you think of warm fuzzy nug slippers and hot cocoa."

Cassandra turned, her face made blank by confusion, "I have known him for year, Herald," she addressed Enya directly, and the downturned curve of the corners of her lips pervaded every word she spoke, "Lord Seeker Lucius was not always the right, but he was never so outspoken, cruel and he would _never_ leave his post."

Enya crossed her arms considering her impassioned statement. If that was true then her sense that something had been off was not wrong.

With command in her words she asked, "The man you knew, Cassandra, could he be a person with whom we might reason?"

"Unquestionably. He would have listened to our explanation, and he would have understood the meaning behind our cause."

Solas moved closer to them, coming to stand just behind Cassandra's shoulder, "Then we must assume that something is amiss."

Cassandra looked up at him and Enya was sure she saw the whisper of a smile twitch her face but it faded quickly, "We should not discuss this further here."

Enya nodded and led them out of the markets. Cassandra, still clearly shaken, brought up the rear and, to Enya's surprise, Varric hovered just ahead of her, casting a wary eye over the Seeker, though whether protective or fearful, she could not tell. Solas joined her in stride, his eyes dancing around the square of people in calculated fascination. The elven mage seemed equal parts preoccupied and disinterested in his surroundings, as though their presence was not the focus of his labored musings.

She sighed let out a rough breath between lips reddened by a day in the sun on the Waking Sea and rolled her shoulders. Cassandra might have been wounded by the day's events, but she, herself, was disheartened by them. The Inquisition had entrusted her with the task of winning at least some of the Chantry's faith back and instead she had borne witness to perhaps their greatest obstacle yet. Their path took them back the same way they had come, heading out the long, cobbled road.

"Inquisitor!"

The party stopped and turned toward the source of the voice. Enya was surprised to find that the full Orlesian voice belonged not to a human woman as she had expected but to an elven mage in ornate Chantry robes. She stood at the entrance to the markets and though she carried a definite air of power, there was uncertainty in her stance.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona?" Cassandra's eyebrows climbed toward her short-cropped hair.

Enya too raised an eyebrow and retraced her steps a bit.

"Leader of the Mage Rebellion," Solas' eyes widened. Enya turned to look at him, "Is it not dangerous for you to be here?"

Fiona shook her head, "The Templars have left Val Royeux. And I could not miss the chance to speak with the messengers of the Inquisition."

"You have heard of us then?" Cassandra responded.

Fiona stared through icy gold eyes at the Seeker, "It is hard to miss a Rebellion that boasts of an allegiance with the Herald of Andraste. Did you think you had done so quietly, Seeker Pentaghast?"

"I merely was told that our efforts had gone unnoticed by such causes as the Rebel Mages or the Templars," Cassandra's response carried a bitter edge.

Fiona's face remained expressionless as she considered them, "We cannot all be concerned with the actions of a small rebellion on the border of Ferelden and Orlais. We Mages fight for our freedom to choose our fates. Even headed by the Right and Left Hand of the Divine, we could not be sure your Inquisition was driven by intentions with which we agree," The Grand Enchanter fixed her gaze on Enya.

"And I suppose that you must feel our cause is just then, Grand Enchanter?" Enya replied.

Fiona considered her, head cocked slightly to the side and then stated, "Consider this your invitation to Redcliffe, Herald," She paused and then bowed her head, "I am afraid I must leave you all. My time is short. The mages await your arrival."

With that, the blue robed woman bowed her head in farewell and left them standing there. The party shared a glance after her departure. They reinitiated their procession toward the harbor after a moment, falling back into more familiar rhythms of walking although Enya still kept the lead.

"That was…" Enya began and then trailed off, for she could not quite figure out how to describe their meeting with Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Solas finished for her, "an unexpected turn of events," he was silent for a few moments and then mused as they reached the docks, almost as though it were a complete afterthought, "Although this journey has thus far been ripe with the unexpected."

They boarded their ship as the sun reached its perigee and then sailed away from it, back to the East. Enya settled again into her spot by the prow though the grey horizon held only the darkness of responsibility that loomed like a thunderhead over her. Her words that day had made little difference, though it was heartening that she did manage to garner some respect from the Mages of the Rebellion holed up in Redcliffe Castle.


	17. All Shiny and Safe

a/n- I am a terrible author for you guys. I've left you a whole two weeks (nearly) without and update and only just realized my fallacy. See, I've had this chapter just about squared away for quite a while not, but I completely forgot I hadn't actually update. Now I feel terrible so I hope you can forgive me. Anyway, I'm quite prou of this next chapter. I'm in the process of establishing just exactly WHO my Lavellan is for you guys so you can see what kind of Inquisitor she might be. Hopefully you get to see a bit of that in this chapter. You can let me know with a nice review.

Dareth Shiral

All Shiny and Safe

They boarded their ship as the sun reached its perigee and then sailed away from Val Royeux, back to the East. Enya settled again into her spot by the prow though the grey horizon held only the darkness of responsibility that loomed like a thunderhead over her. Her words that day had made little difference, though it was heartening that she did manage to garner some respect from the Mages of the Rebellion holed up in Redcliffe Castle. No doubt her future held another trip to the Hinterlands.

"Cheer up, Shiny," Varric pulled her from her musings with a gruff endearment of concern.

Her smile broke the corners of her lip from their downward dive. She watched as he settled in to lean against the rail of the boat, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is that my new nickname?" she asked from her seat on the base of the bowsprit.

"Well I can't keep calling you 'kid' now that you're moving up in the world," his warm tone thawed her dour mood, "If I had kept calling you 'kid' someone would have heard and then they'd never think of you as anything more."

Enya considered the dwarf before her, her smile broadening at his thoughtful words, "I suppose, then, it is good that you've found something else to call me." She paused and then added, "Shiny?"

Varric shrugged and nodded at her hand, "I'd like to claim it was from some amazing insight, but…I'm afraid it's as simple as your mark. It gets Shiny when we get near a rift."

She lifted her hand before her and then closed her fingers around it, "Well, I'm glad it could serve as your inspiration."

A chuckle escaped Varric, "Or something like that," he grew quiet.

Enya grinned and then stared off over the rest of the boat. She spotted Cassandra perched on the steps that lead to the upper deck. The Seeker stared at the back of her hands with a tension setting her jaw in a firm line. As Enya watched, the woman rubbed her hands together, thumbs pressing into the roots of her forefingers. She felt a stab of sympathy for her companion. The sense of betrayal that other woman felt was very familiar. Her eyes travelled on to find the sailors of their ship struggled with the lines that tethered the sails. Solas watched them, leaning against the starboard rail. He had seemed less than surprised by their unsuccessful venture and she wondered how he was able to hope for their success and yet be so realistic about their presence in Thedas.

"What do you make of what happened in the square, Varric?" Enya turned to him.

The dwarf let out a long sigh, shifting from foot to foot, "People who spend most of their time talking rarely get anywhere," he paused, "And Orlais is a terrible place to make friends."

Shifting her position, she gazed down at the rail under her hands, fingers tracing the wood.

Varric's elbow collided with her side, "Andraste's breath, I said to cheer up and there you go getting all misty-eyed on me. It's not all bad, Shiny. Just don't let the small stuff get to you. That's what gets you killed."

She smiled at him, "Thanks Varric."

Enya glanced off at the distant horizon and thought she could see a glint of green tinging the sky where the emerald Fade bled through into Thedas. Haven lay below that mark she knew, but it would be a day's climb up a windy slope to get there. Anticipation leapt in her stomach and she hoped that the journey to the Inquisition camp would be just as swift as it the journey to Val Royeux. After her encounter with the Chantry, she wished for nothing more than the comforts of familiar ground.

Haven's banners flapped, snapping and cracking in the harsh mountain gale that tore up the slopes as they reached their hold. The horses on which they rode had all but given up, despite their much improved stature and build to the plow animals they'd ridden to the Hinterlands before. In snow, that in some of the passes build drifts to reach their chests, they had pushed valiantly on to bear their riders home. Enya felt the seething mass of intense guilt as they rode through these places but she knew that it would be of little help if she were to dismount and lead her steed on through the pass. They would lose not only time but very likely bodies if such a sacrifice were made. Instead, the party members drew their cloaks around them and endured until the worst of the storm had passed and they broke the white wall of snow to see their home appearing through the crystalline zephyrs.

Enya leapt from her horse, pulled the saddle from her back and handed her to a groom. She would have liked to care for her herself, but there was an order to how things were done and they would be needed at the Chantry as soon as they were able. Cassandra fell into step next to her and together they made their way through the village to the former place of worship that was the Inquisitions headquarters. Neither even bade their companions farewell, so frozen were their minds and mouths. Each took a door and pushed it inward. They shed their cloak at the door; someone collected the wind-hardened garments.

Josephine, clearly waiting for their returned, stepped from behind a pillar to approach them. Unlike many of the Inquisition's leaders, she was not trained in concealment. Enya could easily see upon her face an expression of relief was displayed in the release of tense muscles and the spring in her stride as she moved toward them.

"It is good to see you here and safe," she commented as all three drew to a halt.

"Safe?" Cassandra intoned.

"My agents sent word ahead to tell us what had occurred in Val Royeux, of course," Leliana and Cullen strode down the chantry toward them, coming to a stand just before them.

"I cannot believe the Templars abandoned their post in the capital," Cullen crossed his arms.

Enya noticed the lines in his face drew tight over his cheekbones and rumpled in his forehead in an expression of troubled concern.

He continued, "It is very unlike the Order to simply cast aside their oath in favor of glory."

"I thought the same," Cassandra replied, "No doubt you have heard it was the Lord Seeker who lead them."

Leliana nodded, "A curious change in character for him, from what I can recall. Something certainly worth investigating."

The downturn of her lips betrayed her true feelings on the matter though her voice remained light. Whatever made the Inquisition's Spymaster nervous was certainly worth notice, Enya realized, for it was at these words that she felt the tension in the room rise.

"I agree; he was not himself." Cassandra stared into a walk again, moving the conversation in the direction of the war room, "Our interaction, however, was no accident. He wanted us to know he was taking the Templars from Val Royeux. I can feel it."

Cullen followed, "If that is true then perhaps we have an opportunity. If Lord Seeker Lucius was grandstanding then he might find that the men that follow him lose faith in his cause. Surely many of the Templar order will see his quest as foolish."

"Well placed agents could identify these people, and inform us of those we could address," Leliana suggested.

"Or," Josephine glided skillfully into the conversation, "We could simply use the nobles in Thedas to keep an eye on his whereabouts and identify his new location for the order. The Templars have always held a place of honor in society. They will be happy to oblige the will of Orlesian nobles if we send them to their doorstep."

Enya made her way through the taller individuals as Cullen pushed open the large wooden door to the war room. She stepped through it without a seconds though and then turned as she reached the table, "I feel as though we are forgetting that the mages are also an option, if even, a far more likely asset for closing the Breach," she paused, "Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us as we left the market for the docks. She invited the Inquisition to Redliffe to meet with the rebellion."

"The leader of the Mage Rebellion approached you personally in Val Royeux?" Cullen's tone swelled with incredulity.

Leliana seemed equally offput by this bit of information, "That seems very unlike the Grand Enchanter. Fiona is not a foolish woman."

"Had I not seen it with my own eyes," Cassandra interjected, "I would find is hard to believe as well."

"She seemed quite set on our meeting," Enya argued, "Perhaps the Mages are more desperate that we yet realize. Perhaps they hope to strike up an alliance with the Inquisition before we can side with the Templars in this fight."

Josephine's face shifted into a smile of surprise, "That is not unlikely. The Mages would see us as an impartial third party at this point. It may be to our advantage to take them on."

"And they are in much greater need of support than the Templars," Leliana agreed, "An alliance with them would win us loyal allies."

Cullen held up a hand as they gathered around the table in the war room, "Now let's just give this a moment. You're not actually suggest that we give them full partnership with the Inquisition, are you Leliana?"

A sour expression crossed the spymaster's face, "That," she paused, punctuating the word, "Is exactly what I am suggesting. They are a strong ally and giving them the freedom to practice their magic as they will want is the only way to truly guarantee their loyalty."

Cullen slammed a fist down on the table, "Have you forgotten what happened in Ferelden, Kirkwall?"

His voice was strained. Enya could see a touch of panic coloring his light eyes and realized that his aversion to mages must be more than his background as a Templar.

"No one," Leliana's paused, punctuating her word, "has forgotten the Circle of Ferelden and the war will not let us forget what happened in Kirkwall, it is unfair for us to throw away the chance to give mages freedom simply because one mage might become possessed."

The slight curl of the spymaster's lip betrayed the control of her tone. Enya was never more wary of this woman though there was a part of her that doubted this would be the last time that she would feel this way in the Left Hand's presence.

"It is not an 'if' or a 'might' Leliana, it is a when," Cassandra spoke, "So many mages together in Haven could be a threat for the whole Inquisition. And I am not certain we have the men to handle the danger an abomination would present."

"They deserve to be given a chance," Enya broke her silence, "If everyone keeps avoiding, abusing and ostracizing mages then why shouldn't they fight back? Its no different than the attitude toward the People." She crossed her arms and stared hard at the Inquisition's leaders, "I say we at least take up Fiona's offer of a conversation; give them the chance to explain what we gain by allying with them and see how they propose we handle such situations as abominations. Then we can decide whether or not the risk is worth taking."

The room was silent for a long moment. Enya breathed slightly more heavily, for her words had fallen from her mouth in a heated rush. She was tired of the arguing, of the back and forth. Circular arguments were not going to help her mend the Breach. As was often the case, it was Cassandra who broke the silence, voice even and reasoned as ever.

"Very well. But I will not allow you to go on your own," She fixed Enya with a stern stare, "The Mages may not have such noble motives as sealing the Breach."

Enya nodded in agreement. There was always the possibility that they were being tricked, but sometimes chances had to be taken. Quiet and careful as she sometimes might be, a modicum of daring flowed through her as well, overpowering the calculations of risk that flooded her mind lie spring thaws overflowed rivers.

"That is a chance I am willing to take," she lifted her hand to look at it and then dropped it to her side. The prickling skin on her forearm betrayed the focus of every eye in the room on her movement, "We need their power to close the Breach."

The air gushed noisily from Cullen's lungs as he let out a tight sigh, "There is nothing I can say that will dissuade you from this is there?"

The harshness of her words came back to her in the defeated tone of his voice and she almost regretted the anger that had fueled them. Almost. The room's collective silence seemed enough of an answer for him. She watched as his hands came to rest on his sword in what seemed a gesture of self-comfort.

"Very well," The Inquisitions general crossed to the door, "I will gather what few Templars have joined us and make certain they are prepared. Perhaps we can train a few others…"

His final words slipped through the waning crack of the door. Enya watched a glance pass between the Inquisition's ambassador and spymaster. Their concern was audible.

Cassandra sighed as she addressed Leliana, "I will speak with him."

"That might be best," Josephine agreed.

As the Leaders of the Inquisition left the room, Enya was left with the distinct and irritating impression that she was missing a vital piece of information. She had little time to consider this for as she departed, Leliana fell into stride next to her.

"There is another matter of business I wondered if you might address," the spymaster spoke up and her unique mix of Orlesian and Ferelden show particularly prominent in the cadence of her words, "You know of the Grey Wardens, yes?"

"Only that Ferelden was saved by a Dalish Warden," Enya glanced at her, "They are trained to fight the Blights."

Leliana nodded, "Yes. I have received disturbing new of late. My scouts report to me that the Wardens have been disappearing. Of course there were few in Ferelden to begin with, the Hero of Ferelden being one of them, but the Wardens of Orlais, of the Free Marches, even Weisshaupt? They have not been seen since just before the explosion at the Conclave."

Enya fixed her under a sharp stare, "You believe there is a connection."

"I do not want to think it of such a prestigious order but," The Spymaster came to a halt at the Chantry doors, gazing out into the valley beyond Haven, "The other believe I am grasping for any explanation for the Divine's death. They may be right," she lowered her eyes for a moment and then turned back to Enya, "But we cannot dismiss every possibility.

Enya shook her head, "I do not think that it is an impossibility," she paused, "What favor did you want of me?"

"Though I said my scouts had reported little to me on Wardens, that is not entirely true. I have located one, a man by the name of Blackwall, who has been seen trying to help farmers in the Hinterlands. I would very much like for you to find and speak with him," Leliana's voice tingle with the air of one daring to hope as she continued, "Perhaps he could put my mind at ease."

"I will do what I can," Enya bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"That is all I can ask, Herald."

The Inquisition's Spymaster let out a sign as the repose of duty cast her features in quiet determination. Enya watched her as she stepped beyond the Chantry's threshold into the crisp, blizzarding mountain air. It was only later that she recalled that the bard often mentioned traveling with Sir Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden was, in fact, the woman who headed their division of intrigue.

Enya was loath to step out into the wind again. Her skin remembered all to fondly the bite of its teeth as they ascended the mountains in a desparate bid to return home before nightfall. Then, just as her toe hovered on the meeting of stone and dirt, the Antivan lilt of Josephine drew her back into the blessed warmth of the Chantry.

"Mistress Lavellan?"

She turned and let the guards shut the great doors behind her as she walked back up the aisle to meet the Ambassador. The woman was holding her writing board with an ease that seemed uncanny given the unnaturalness of the object, but it was likely she had used such a tool for years.

"I was hoping I could speak with you about your heritage."

Josephine guided her toward the small at the left of the end of the Chantry. Inside was a desk, a table some books and an elf in Circle robes pouring over what might have been the canine of some large creature. Enya glanced at it for a moment, recognizing the perfect straightness as the tooth of a wyvern.

Josephine settled into her chair and turned to speak with her, "There are many people in Thedas who fear you. Those that do not believe you are the Herald, blame you…well I supposed you've already seen this first hand so there is little need for me to recount it for you," she toyed with a red-feather quill she drew from the well of black in before her, "We have not discouraged the rumors that you are the Herald of Andraste, but it has become apparent that many who are skeptical about the legend are concerned that you are…" words seemed to fail the ambassador at that moment.

Enya had little trouble understanding her silent words however, "Because I am an elf."

"That is the basics yes," the antivan lady affirmed, "I hoped that I could perhaps find out a little of your past so that I might spread the word. The other races of Thedas know so little of the Dalish it is hard for them to comprehend you beyond the stories they hear of clans."

She had not heard many stories of the Dalish from the humans but the few that she had painted pictures of blood-spattered bandits and child-eating mongrels, none of which carried any sort of truth beyond the obvious tinge of Shemlan fear. It had been weeks since she had used, or even thought, the word and she held her tongue even now. Despite her curiosity to know what tall tales had been told of her, Enya refrained.

"What would you have them know, Lady Montilyet?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

Josephine's turned her head to the side and tucked her chin just the tiniest bit toward herself in consideration of Enya. A shadow of a smile twisted her lips for a moment as though she had discovered a dangerous secret but in moments, Enya could not prove it had been there at all.

"Your clan lives near the City-State of Wycome in the Free Marches at present. Is that where you have always lived?"

Enya licked her lips and shook her head, "Once we lived in a forest at the edge of Nevarra. I was very young then, but I remember the trees had bark like paper. They smelled of some sharp spice." She shook her head, trying in vain to recall the name but it would not come to her.

"It sounds as though you miss it." Josephine's eyes carried a distinctly maternal intelligence that reminded Enya for a moment of a Keeper.

Enya inclined her head affirming the statement, "There was a human in the village nearby who lost his sheep to a wounded wolf our clan's hunters killed. The damage had been done though. The village blamed the knife-eared vagrants and attacked us in the night."

The ambassador's horrified gasp quelled the fire in Enya's voice. Bitterness was an old enemy of the Dalish, overshadowed only by their Pride. She paused, drew a breath, and continued.

"Most of us survived; Lavellan has always been a clan of strong hunters," She lowered her eyes, brow pinched and anger blazing through the emerald of her irises, "My mother died that day…and my brother," Enya drew a breath that rattled her lungs as she glanced up at Josephine, "But we survived. The Dalish always survive."

The ambassador's lips were parted the tiniest amount, as though she had not noticed that they were even open at all. There was something in the blankness of her face that reminded Enya just exactly what she said, and though regret plagued her, it was overshadowed by determined flames of pride. This was her history after all, and there was no need for her to feel ashamed for telling the truth, even if it had shocked this kind Antivan to her core.

"I…" Josephine stammered for a moment but then her years of diplomacy overcame her timidity, "I am apologize deeply for prying, Your Worship," she placed her crimson quill down on the desk, "Perhaps we can continue this another time, then?"

Enya shook her head, "No. We can finish this now. You already have me talking."

A huff exploded from the ambassador and for a moment her expression bordered on cross. She nodded in consent and picked up the feather, "Very well. After you left Nevarra, did you go to Wycome?"

"We travelled for a time."

Enya's words carried on into the afternoon as she explained the finer details of her travels to the Antivan woman. Josephine listened in rapt interest, her quill stilling after a time. Aware of her captive audience, Enya found herself embellishing the detail, going beyond simple facts. She remembered the times she'd listened to her mother's tales as a small child, running about the wood, racing the halla and described moments with the clarity of a painting, down to the simplest detail. This woman, she realized, was the only person of the Inquisition's leaders who had never accused her of treachery, never suggested she was false. For her, Enya would tell the truth.


End file.
